Every Bit The Little Girl
by MySadCaptains
Summary: A young child shows up at 221B with a note that says she's Sherlock's daughter. Of course, it was only a matter of time until Moriarty became interested in the bold six year old child of Sherlock Holmes who swore like a sailor and really, really, REALLY wanted a pony.
1. The Start

"Well I didn't see this coming." John announced as both he and Sherlock stared at the her. She stared back at them, wide blue eyes framed with long dark eyelashes and filled with confusion. They had found her on the door steps moments ago with a letter saying her name who she was. She also had a small pink backpack that was clutched to her chest. "I didn't know you had..." John trailed off, looking over at Sherlock who didn't look away from the girl.

"How old are you?" He asked roughly. He clearly wasn't one of those people who puts on a soft, kind voice for children. The little girl in front of them frowned and looked down at her hands. She dropped her pink back-pack on the floor and frowned as she counted on her fingers. Eventually she held up both of her hands with a total of eight fingers sticking up.

"Six." She said with a smug nod. John frowned to himself. She didn't look six. She looked about four. Maybe it was just her face or her height or the dirt that covered her skin.

"That's eight." Sherlock shot back quickly.

"Sherlock." John warned. The little girl glared up and Sherlock and shook her head. Her hair tickled her cheeks, dark and matted around her small face. A poster girl for child neglect.

"It's six." She snapped. "I know. I can count." Sherlock scoffed and took a deep breath, ready to launch into some lecture to the small child before John cut in. He crouched down to the little girls level and smiled. She leant back in her seat nervous and stared at him. Her small fingers with the chewed down nails began to fidget on her lap.

"Where's your mum, Sophia?" He asked.

"Spain." She said with a firm nod. "She said she couldn't deal with anymore. She said I had to live with my dickhead of a dad while she went to live with her boyfriend." John was taken back by the language but decided not to point it out. The girl let her eyes wander around the room. "He was nasty, anyway. I didn't like him. He told me to call him daddy but I didn't. I don't want a daddy." With that she looked over at Sherlock, her blue eyes burning into him. He just shrugged and fell back into his seat.

"I don't want a daughter." He replied. John stood up, turning to him angrily. Sherlock just shrugged and sank back in his seat, eye closed and fingers to his lips.

"My mummy hates you." Sophia snapped. "She said you ran away."

"I didn't run away. I told her I was leaving and I told her where to find me if she had any enquiries." Sherlock said calmly.

"You never paid for me." The young girl shot back. All this, John figured, was clearly regurgitated words from her mother.

"Your mother never made me aware of her pregnancy." Sherlock sighed, annoyed that he had to explain himself to a child. His voice was low, sarcastic and somewhat angry."Your _mummy _never told me that you existed."

"Mummy said that you're the reason I'm naughty. She said that I get it from you." Sophia said. Sherlock scoffed to himself. John saw this as a reasonable time to step in.

"Sophia! When was the last time you had a bath?" He asked. The girl shrugged. He then turned to Sherlock. Apart from the fact that the young girl must be uncomfortable and, if left any longer, may become ill due to how unhygienic she appeared. John was starting to gag from the smell of her. Then there was also the way she was scratching her head. As a doctor he saw this a lot in kids her age. Headlice. God knows how long they'd been left in her hair. "How are we going to do this?"

"Do what?" Sherlock asked. "There's a foster home in the next town over. We'll put her on the tube with a sandwich and a note saying where she's going. She'll be fine."

"Jam sandwich. I like jam." Sophia added happily. John couldn't believe what he had just heard. Anger raised up within him.

"You're not running away from this." He growled, trying his damn hardest not to shout at the man. "She is your daughter."

"She doesn't even want to be here, John." Sherlock shouted back. "She'd be happier with other children who are completely unwanted by their parents."

"How can you be so heartless?" John finally yelled. Sophia let out a whine and put her hands over her ears. Her eyes shut but no one noticed. John and Sherlock were too angry at each other. They only looked back towards her when Mrs Hudson came into the room asking about what all the shouting was about.

"Thank God." John sighed before sticking on a false smile and turning to Sophia. "Sophia, this is our landlady. Her names Mrs Hudson. Mrs Hudson, this is Sophia. She's Sherlock's daughter." Mrs Hudson began to giggle, thinking it was a joke. Upon looking at John's serious stare, she quickly bit her tongue.

"Daughter?" She asked. "Oh Sherlock."

"Could you take Sophia downstairs and give her a bath?" John asked. "Sherlock and I need to talk."

"I'm not your babysitter." Mrs Hudson replied.

"But you are a woman." He said. "Please, just while I talk to Sherlock." Mrs Hudson sighed and looked down at the young girl who stared back up with wide confused eyes. She couldn't say no to a thing as cute as her.

"Come on, darling. We'll get you a nice warm bath. Get you all cleaned up." Mrs Hudson smiled. Sophia leapt to her feet with an eagerness that John had never seen before. She grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. Most children hated the idea of baths and screamed at the mere mention of it. Sophia was acting as if it was Disneyworld.

"Can you clean my hair?" She asked excitedly. "There are bugs in it." Mrs Hudson's face dropped for a second but she soon put on another smile. She nodded cheerfully before looking up at John.

"Good thing I keep a bottle of lotion spare for times like these." She said. John could have kissed her. He made a mental note to buy her flowers or something as he watched her take the young girls hand and lead her out of the room. Before they were out of the door Sophia spun around and got one last look at the pair. There was no doubting whose daughter she was, John thought. The eyes said it all. Blue and endless just like Sherlock's.

/

"That's all she had in her bag." Mrs Hudson sighed as she and the two boys gathered in the doorway of the kitchen, looking out into the living room where Sophia sat with a dirt covered bear. She was, as she had told John, showing him around. She was wearing dull, stained, faded yellow pyjamas that were too small. The pants grazed above her ankles and the sleeves above her wrists. Her hair was now clean and untangled. Her skin was much paler than expected now that all of the flith was scrubbed off. "A pair of grubby pyjamas, a bear that's god knows how old and a packet of stale biscuits." Mrs Hudson looked up at Sherlock with a frown. "Where's her mother, Sherlock?"

"Ran away." John answered when he remained silent.

"I don't know how the poor thing wasn't taken off of her." Mrs Hudson sighed. "Those bruises..."

"Bruises?" Sherlock asked suddenly. His face washed with anger, his eyes blazed. Before Mrs Hudson could answer, he swiftly strode across the room. He stood in front of Sophia who smiled up at him innocently. "Show me." He said.

"OK." She whispered. She stood up and stuck her arms in the air, pressing her bear up to Sherlock's chest. "This is Steve! He's my best friend." Sherlock signed and batted away the bear.

"Not the toy. The bruises."

"He's not a toy." Sophia barked as she cradled the bear in her arms. "His name is Steve and he doesn't like you."

"Show me where your bruises are." Sherlock repeated calmly. Sophia glared at him and bit her lip. She looked down at the bear, as if asking for advice, before nodding to herself. She gripped the bottom hem of her pyjama shirt and pulled it up so just her belly was on show. Sherlock crouched down to her height. There were bruises scattered across her skin in different colours and sizes like puddles of murky water. Sherlock's eyes fell closed for a split second before he let out a growl. Sophia jumped in shock. He got back to his feet and walked towards John and Mrs Hudson. "They're bruises left over from being punched and grabbed. Not by her mother, no, by a man. Her mothers boyfriend probably. Coward."

"Oh my." Mrs Hudson said quietly with a shake of her head. "Poor girl."

"I'm sorry." Sophia's tiny voice whimpered. "I didn't mean to make him angry."

"No! No, no." John panicked. "Its not your fault."

"Why is he angry?" She sniffed, on the verge of tears. A chubby finger pointed towards Sherlock.

"He's just... Sad." John tried weakly. Sophia sniffled once more before wiping at her face with her sleeves.

"When mummy's boyfriend was sad or angry he'd hurt me. The television said you're not supposed to hurt anyone." She said quietly, looking back down at Steve who stared back with clouded eyes.

"No ones going to hurt you anymore." John said quietly. "We won't let them."

/

Sophia slept through the night in Sherlock's bed. He wasn't sleeping that night any way but that didn't mean he wanted to give up his bed. John had to practically demand that he let the girl sleep in it. Sherlock wanted to leave her on the floor where she dropped off to sleep. She was comfy there, surely. But no. John carried her to Sherlock's bed and Sherlock stayed in the living room.

He was still there when John woke up and padded into the room sleepily. He didn't exchange pleasantries but instead slapped a handful of notes into Sherlock's hand. "That should be enough. No go."

"Go where?" Sherlock asked cautiously. John sighed and fell back into his seat.

"To the shops to buy your daughter clothes."

"Can't." Sherlock replied quickly. "I don't know how to buy children's clothes. We'll send Mrs Hudson to do it."

"No, Sherlock. She's your daughter." John sighed. He rooted around in the pocket of his dressing gown before bringing out a folded up piece of paper. "Look, I made you a list." He said as he handed over the paper. "That should be enough for now. Until we can..." He drifted off.

"Send her away." Sherlock finished, getting to his feet.

"Convince Mycroft to help." John correct. Sherlock let out a groan as he walked towards the door. He grabbed his coat from the coat stand and shot a glare towards John.

"If Mycroft starts to interfere with this, I won't ever hear the end of it." He said, as he put on this coat. A look of horror washed over his face. "And he'll tell mother. Think of the Christmases." John smirked and watched as Sherlock looped his scarf around his neck and left. He couldn't help but wonder what on earth was going on. Getting Sherlock to go shopping had been far too easy.

/

"You're a good chef." Sophia said from the kitchen table. John looked over and smiled at her.

"It was just toast." He said, watching as she licked the crumbs off of her fingers. She shrugged him off and ran her finger around the plate, picking up more crumbs. "You can have some more if you'd like." John offered. Sophia shook her head furiously making her hair bounce. It had dried over night leaving it curly like her fathers. Her father who had now been gone for quite some time. John glanced at the clock and decided it was time to call him. His hand only just managed to brush over the phone when the sound of the door being opened rang out.

"Sherlock! Finally!" John called out. Sherlock smiled as he walked into the kitchen. Only he wasn't alone. Molly followed with bags of shopping. John gave Sherlock a look that read 'what on earth?'.

"I dropped in at Molly's flat on the way to the shops and she offered to come along and help." He said happily.

"I wouldn't say offered." Molly mumbled as she dropped the bags down on the table. Her eyes landed on Sophia who was frowning in confusion. She smiled down at the younger girl and leant forward slightly. "You must be Sophia. My names Molly." Sophia didn't reply. Molly shifted awkwardly under the six year old stare. "I'm your daddy's friend."

"I don't want a daddy." Sophia said quietly. She looked up at Sherlock next. "Mummy said he's a twat." Molly choked on the air while Sherlock just glared back at the girl.

"We don't use words like that in this house, Sophia." John said awkwardly, knowing it wasn't his place but nobody else was about to step in. "Now why don't you say thank you to Sherlock and Molly for buying you all of these new clothes?"

"Clothes?" Sophia asked curiously. She reached out and slid a finger inside of the bag, lifting it open slightly. "For me?" John nodded. Sophia smiled and reached her whole hand into the first bag. "Do you have a little girl as well?" She asked Molly quickly. "Mummy's friends gave me their little girls' clothes as well."

"Oh no, no." Molly laughed. "These are new. We got them from the shops." Sophia stared up at Molly in awe.

"Thank you." She grinned. "My own clothes! You people must be rich!"

"You'd think." Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

* * *

A/N _: This is, of course, going to be far more light and humorous than my other nonsense. _

_I wrote this originally just for my online-friend-come-roommate but I thought you guys might like it. _

_I took the photograph on the cover and edited it myself in case you were wondering. _

_Please review. _

_I will give you a small pot of jam if you review. _


	2. The Social Worker

Given a piece of plain paper and a box of cheap crayons bought from the pound shop down the road, Sophia was the most content child John had ever seen. She would sit on the floor in between John and Sherlock's arm chairs and silently draw colourful messes that vaguely resembled humans. She knew that if she gave a drawing to John or Mrs Hudson they'd pin it up on a wall. That's why the walls of 221B were covered in crayon art. Which was, John had to admit, a good effect when the care worker came.

He hadn't told Sherlock, of course. He'd sigh and huff and complain about how unfair it was that they had to have somebody poking around in their house. So for that reason he decided to tell his friend that the social worker was coming only minutes before she arrived.

"We don't know a thing about children. We don't know how to get her into a good school, what to feed her, how to talk to her about her mother, how to stop her getting into drink and drugs." John explained, trying to keep his calm. "We need somebody to help us."

"She's six. She's not going to get into drugs." Sherlock replied with a smirk. John looked over at him with a glare, ready to tell him to stop being a smart arse, but was interrupted by Mrs Hudson's voice.

"Boys, there's a woman at the door for you."

"Is it mummy?" Sophia asked, finally snapping back into the real world after spending so much drawing and totally cut off from the world.

"Highly unlikely." Sherlock replied quickly. Sophia sighed and returned to her drawing while John went down to meet the social worker. Sherlock watched her. The drawing, that was supposedly a person, consisted of a circle for a head and four lines jutting outwards for limbs. Another being stood next to the person, a rectangle with four lines jutting out from underneath. An animal of some sort. She wasn't very good. At least he didn't have to worry about her going to art college.

"Mr Holmes, my name is Cassandra Green. I'm the social worker assigned to your daughters case." A voice said, snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts. He turned around to see a shorter woman with her hair scraped back into a ponytail, with her hand sticking out towards his. He shook it reluctantly. "And this..." The woman said, her voice growing a few tones higher. "Must be Sophie."

"Sophi_a_." Sophia replied, not looking up from her drawings.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The social worker said awkwardly. "My name's Cassandra and I'm your social worker. Do you know what a social worker is?"

"Mummy said that a social workers are interfering, useless scum." Sophia mumbled. Sherlock smirked to himself while John's eyes grew wide.

"Sophia!" He cried before turning to the social worker. "I'm so sorry. We're trying to stop this. She does it a lot. It's always seems to be regurgitated words from her mother... directed at her father."

"It's fine. I understand." Mrs Green said, raising a hand to stop John. "I'd like to take a quick look around your home and then I'll talk to Sophia on her own and then both of you. Nothing to worry about. We'll figure out what everyone's worries and problems are and we'll make plans to overcome them."

"Great." Sherlock grumbled sarcastically.

/

Sophia was confused. Her mommy said that all social workers were nasty and wanted to steal her away but this lady seemed nice. What was her name again? Ca- something. A nice name. A princess name. She sat down on the floor opposite her and began telling her how nice her drawings were. Sophia proudly told her that John and Mrs Hudson had stuck her pictures up on the wall. Mommy never did that. That must mean that her drawings had gotten a lot better since Mommy left.

"Do you like staying with John and Daddy?" The lady asked as she looked at Sophia's drawing of herself on a pirate ship.

"I haven't been here long." She said quietly.

"But so far do you like it?"

"Yes." Sophia said quickly. "Daddy's friend came around and got me lots of new clothes and I get a warm bath every night and Mrs Hudson washes my hair and closes her eyes when I wrap myself in the fluffy towel. They have lots of food in the house. There's always food there whenever anyone's hungry. It's like magic!"

"I went into your bedroom before. Your daddy and John told me that they're going to let you paint it any colour you want. That's exciting." The lady said. Sophia frowned down at her page. This woman was rather strange, she thought. SHe was getting very excited about paint. Adults didn't do that. They got excited about taxes and jobs.

"Mrs Hudson said that we're lucky that John and Daddy had a spare room. She said she wanted to put her hoover in there." She replied before finally looking up with a small smirk. "She said I'm better than a hoover."

"Mrs Hudson sounds nice. Is she the lady downstairs?" The lady asked. Sophia noded.

"John said she's our lamp lady but she's like the nans that you see on the television."

"Would you like a family like you see on the television?" The lady asked softly. Sophia paused, her crayon hovering over the paper. She looked up with a frown, not quite understanding. "Like a mummy and daddy and brother and sister?"

"Mummy doesn't like daddy." She said. "She said that he's useless and he's the reason that I'm naughty and I don't want to be naughty because when I'm naughty I'm not allowed to have dinner and then I'm really, really hungry." She paused before starting to colour in her drawing. "And I don't think I'd want a brother or sister. One of mummy's old boyfriends had a little girl who stayed on the weekends and she wasn't nice. She hit me and pinched me and took my toys... and boys smell." The lady smiled and nodded to herself.

"That's all I need." She said, more to herself than Sophia. She got to her feet. Sophia watched her as she went out of the door and onto the landing where Daddy and John stood. The door closed but not all the way. Setting her crayons down on the floor, Sophia was overwhelmed with curiosity. She got to her feet and tiptoed over to the door where she stayed to listen.

They used very long words that she didn't understand like 'therapy' and 'abandonment issues'. Sophia tried to mouth them silently but her tongue got caught between her teeth and her lips twisted. 'Encouragement' and 'abuse'. She eventually got bored and went back to her crayons.

/

John had gone down to the shops to get food that catered to a six year old, leaving Sherlock alone to deal with his daughter. She had grew bored of her crayons and instead took to sitting at Sherlock's feet and asking a lot of intruding questions.

"Why do you have a funny name?" She asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Ask my mother." He answered slowly. Sophia seemed to accept this. She nodded and began to absent mindedly bite at the skin around her nails. Sherlock deduced that it was a nervous habit. It explained why the remaining skin around her nails were bright red and scaly. Sherlock's nose wrinkled in disgust. Children were horribly messy creatures.

"What do you do?" She asked suddenly with a heavy sigh. Her voice was slightly mumbled by the fingers in her mouth. She looked up at him with big eyes. Sherlock had never seen someone so interested in asking him questions since John first met him.

"What do you mean?" He enquired.

"What's your job? Mummy's boyfriend's job was in a shop by our house and sometimes mummy would go there to not buy anything. She'd kiss him and then he'd take things without paying but we couldn't when he boss was in and if I said anything when the boss was there mummy's boyfriend said he'd smack me in the face."

"Charming." Sherlock said.

"Sometimes he did even if I didn't say anything." She mumbled under her breath. An emotion he wasn't familiar with flared up in Sherlock's chest, mixed with boiling anger. He knew that _his_ daughter had been abused, smacked around at bullied by grown adults, but that didn't mean he didn't have the overwhelming urge to find this man and throw him out of a window a copious amount of times.

"So?" Sophia prompted, poking him just below his knee cap. "What's your job?"

"Consulting detective." Sherlock answered watching his daughter's eyes grow in wonder. He smirked slightly in amusement.

"Like the dog on the television?" She asked, her voice full of excitement. Sherlock stared back blankly so Sophia continued. "He finds out whole stole things. Do you do that?"

"Sometimes."

"Just sometimes?" Sophia asked curiously. She shuffled closer until she was kneeling on Sherlock's feet, her chin resting on his knees. She grinned up at him "What else do you do?"

"Solve murders, homicide, assault..."

"What's homicide?"

"Its when..." Sherlock started, being cut off by an unexpected guest.

"Now, now, Sherlock." Mycroft's voice said. "She's far too young for that." Sophia gasped and spun around quickly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and deflated back into his seat. He was having fun showing off. Why did his brother have to come and ruin it all over again? That was his childhood. Mycroft grinned, stopping a few steps in front of the pair and grinning. "Introduce us."

"Mycroft, Sophia. Sophia, Mycroft." Sherlock grumbled.

"_Uncle _Mycroft." Mycroft said with a creepy smile as he looked down at Sophia who yelped and ran behind Sherlock's chair. Sherlock smirked and raised his eyebrows at Mycroft.

"She's shy." He stated, almost sarcastically. Mycroft glared at his brother and took a seat in John's chair. "I'm guessing you already know the situation."

"I already have my best people looking for the mother." Mycroft answered swiftly. Sherlock heard a yelp fill his ear. Sophia peeked out from behind the sofa, her cheek being tickled by her father's curls.

"You're going to find my mummy?" She asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes and tossed his head back. Why did his brother have to mention that blasted woman? The little girl had only just shut up about her and now he had started her off again. All the girl seemed to do was regurgitate nonsense from that woman.

"Well..." Mycroft started awkwardly, a fake smile and equally fake cheery tone coming from his lips. "We're trying our best."

"She's in Spain." Sophia blurted out. "She's on holiday but she said she's not coming back." Mycroft didn't know how to respond. He let out a small laugh and nodded to which Sophia frowned. "You're in John's seat." She said angrily.

"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind." Mycroft replied.

"I mind." Sophia shot back. "Where's John going to sit when he gets back from shopping? He'll be tired and you're in his seat."

"He can sit in another seat."

It's not that simple!" Sophia cried. Mycroft looked directly at his younger brother who was smiling evilly. Yes, Mycroft thought, this was definitely Sherlock's daughter. Mycroft sighed before looking back at the girl.

"Why don't you go and play for a while?" He asked sweetly. "I need to talk to your... daddy." Sophia eyed Mycroft suspiciously, all the while still hiding behind the sofa. Her light blue eyes narrowed slightly. She stood on her tiptoes and pushed her body forwards, her shoulders and above pushed over the chair. She looked at Sherlock for a second or so while he stared back at her.

"Can I play on your laptop again?" She asked, adding a grin at the end of her sentence as if that might convince him.

"You can play on John's." Sherlock replied, getting to his feet. Sophia let out a small cheer and followed her father to the desk. Mycroft watched with a smirk as his younger brother opened up John's laptop, quickly going through the passwords and user accounts, and logging onto the internet. He reached up towards that awful deer head they had on their wall and looped the headphones off. Sophia watched with wide eyes as her father pulled out the chair for her to sit in. She grinned and leapt up onto the seat. "What do you want to play on?" He asked, his tone flat and bored.

"UNICORNS!" Sophia cheered. Sherlock rolled his eyes and swiftly typed something into the laptop, pressed a button or two and then plugged the headphones into the socket. He placed them over Sophia's ears, giving himself and Mycroft a tiny bit of privacy, as the little girl let out a small 'ooh' and grinned up at him. "Unicorns." She whispered to herself before leaning forward and stroking the screen.

"Much better." Mycroft said as Sherlock returned to his chair. "Now, brother dearest, we need to discuss your daughters plans for an education." Sherlock let out a sigh and tilted his head back. Part of him wishing he didn't bother to distract Sophia just so she could distract Mycroft.

/

"Sherlock Holmes, aye." The slim, posh gentleman who was guiding Sherlock, John and Sophia around the school. "Can't say you're the most famous person we've had as a parent at this school but you certainly are the only one who's faked his own death." Sherlock faked a smile and held back the urge to tell the man he was pretentious and they hadn't even agreed to send Sophia there yet. It was all Mycroft's idea. Best school in London, he had said. While the idea of his daughter speaking three languages before reached high school was very appealing, Sherlock couldn't help but hate the fact he felt as if he was being treated like a side-show freak. The famous Sherlock Holmes, oh the donations he'd give, they must have been thinking. Who even knew he had a daughter? This will sell to the papers for a good few hundred.

"Yes, in this school we produce the brightest and best children to lead the way into the future." The man continued. Sherlock held back a sigh as he followed the man down the sparkling clean hallway. A small hand slipped into his. He looked down at Sophia who was was nervously trying to hide behind his arm, her cheek brushing against the back of his hand. He chose to ignore her, hoping she'd let go if he didn't give her any attention. God knows where those small grubby hands had been. "We have many after school activities such as yoga, karate, computing, orchestra, ballet and German to name a small few." The man turned to Sophia as they walked. She cowered slightly behind Sherlock. "Would you be interested in any of that, Sophia? Most of the girls you age are very much into yoga." Sophia looked up at John, as if waiting for him to answer. She then looked back up at the man and shrugged, pushing herself behind Sherlock.

"She's very shy." John explained even though he knew that this was a lie. To be honest, he had never seen the girl so quiet. The man nodded, understanding, and lead the small group towards a bright red door.

"This will be the class that Sophia's will join if you chose for her to attend our school." The headteacher said and without giving anyone a chance to object, knocked on the door. He pushed it open, revealing a clean, near classroom full of small children of Sophia's age. They all spun to look at the door. "Good morning, Mrs Ashford. Good morning, students."

"Good morning, headmaster." The children replied in a droned chorus, clearly very rehearsed. Sherlock stared back at the children, wide eyed. He found children rather creepy on their own. This was almost terrifying. The children were so neat and clean, nothing like Sophia who would be covered in dirt even if she hadn't left the house that day. These children were too clean. It was suspicious.

"I am giving a tour to a potential student who may, if she choses to join our school, be in your class." The headmaster said before turning to John. "As you can see each child has their own workspace." Sherlock, who was busy staring at the scarily quiet children, was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a yanking at his arm.

"Daddy." Sophia hissed as he turned to look at her. "I don't like it. I want to go home. I want to go back to your house."

"Yes. Once we're done here..." Sherlock replied sharply.

"No. Now." Sophia replied before her bottom lip started to tremble. Sherlock's eyes widened. He didn't know what to do. He panicked. John was busy, distracted by the teachers babbling about Latin class or something stupid like that. Tears welled up in Sophia's eyes.

"John." Sherlock hissed, jabbing his bony elbow into his friend's ribs. John spun around, wide eyed and angry that he had been disturbed. "We need to leave." He nodded his head towards the young girl who was on the brink of making a show of him and ruining her chance at getting into the school which would mean she'd be hanging around Sherlock every second of every day. The thought made him shiver.

"But we're yet to get to the paperwork." The headmaster said. John looked back at the man and sighed.

"Why don't you take Sophia out for some fresh air? I'll meet you outside." John suggested. Sherlock, seeing no other option sighed and made way to leave. Sophia on the other hand didn't move. She was too busy crying to do anything. Sherlock rolled his eyes before grabbing Sophia by the waist and lifting her up to balance on his hip. She instantly snuggled into his neck, wetting his skin with her tears. They took off down the corridor, Sherlock remembering exactly where the entrance was. They swiftly strode past the receptionist who tried to make pathetic small talk.

When they got outside Sherlock sat Sophia down on the brick wall that ran around the front of the school. He looked her up and down, trying to find the source of her misery. She was a mess of tears and snot. Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disgust and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. He watched as she pathetically tried to clean herself up. Soon enough he couldn't watch any longer. She was taking too much time, dissolving into tears over and over again.

"Let me do it." He grumbled, snatching the handkerchief from her hand and wiping her face rather roughly. By the time he had finished she had stop crying and was now glaring at him. "The other children." He stated. She, unlike other people, wasn't at all bothered by his deductions. She didn't even flinch. She just glared at him, arms folded and bottom lip sticking out. "You were bullied in your other school and now you have social anxiety. Something that can and will fade away before adolescence." He didn't offer any words of support or encouragement. He wondered what John would do in that situation. Hug her? No, Sherlock wasn't going to do that. "They won't bully you here." He stated. "They don't even know you."

"No one likes me because I smell." Sophia grumbled. "I wasn't invited to anyone's house because I had head lice and my clothes didn't get washed." She let out a heavy, dramatic sigh and began to pick at the new jeans she had on. The ones that Molly had cooed over for about ten minutes. "Mummy didn't let me invite anyone around because she didn't like their mummies. I didn't like them either. They called mummy nasty names."

"Your mother severely neglected you, it was amazing none of these parents ever rang social services. Then again, not really surprising. You weren't their problem. You were the dirty kid. There was always a dirty kid in school. As long as you don't get involved everything is fine. Your child hears you talking about said dirty child and regurgitates it to his or her friends in school. All it takes is one child and then you're bullied for life." Sherlock looked off, lost in memories while Sophia tried to figure out what he said. She decided that he had agreed with her. He spoke again, sharply, making Sophia jump. "There are worse things in the world than calling people names." He said, looking back down at her. "Murder is far worse."

/

**_A/N: _**_Thank you for reading, alerts, favourites and reviewing! I'm sorry this chapter took so long to post. I went on holiday and seemed to have no wifi (but I did go to the Hounds of Baskerville pub, the first pub John and Sherlock went to on the stag do and a lot of Doctor Who locations. _

_Anyway, please review! _


	3. The Threapist

Sophia still didn't know what 'family therapy' or why Sherlock hated it so much. John had tried to explain it to her but it didn't really make much sense to her. So far, anyway, she loved it although John wasn't allowed to come in. Much to Sophia's disappointment, he was left in the waiting room reading a book that didn't have any pictures in but apart from the lack of John this therapy thing seemed great. There was a nice lady who took them from the waiting room and into a big, brightly coloured room with a fluffy rug, long sofas, boxes of board games, piles of books and a pile of blank paper next to a cup full of crayons. Sophia bolted towards them before the woman even told them to sit down. Sherlock didn't seem so enthusiastic. He awkwardly sat down in a low sofa, looking terribly out of place. He didn't make a move to grab any of the good toys. Instead he just watched the lady who led them in.

"Sophia, Sherlock. How are you both?" The lady asked. Sophia looked up at her for a few seconds. She was older than Sherlock and John, with brown hair that piled up into a bun on the top of her head. A few strands fell down, framing a face that looked as if it always smiled.

"Fine." Sherlock replied quickly.

"Fine." Sophia repeated with a small smile.

"My name's Margaret and I'll be your family therapist. Sophia, do you know what family therapy is?" The woman asked.

"John said that it's where me and Daddy have to go to learn how to like each other." Sophia replied as she looked back down at the paper she was drawing on. "He said that the lady who came to our house told us we have to."

"Well, I'm sure your daddy likes you already..." Margaret said awkwardly. Sophia looked up at Sherlock and tried to read his face. She let out a small laugh and then went back to her colouring. "Maybe your daddy can explain why we're here." Sophia looked over at Sherlock for a second before turning back to her drawing. She honestly couldn't care less what therapy was. As long as she got to colour in, she didn't mind.

"We're here," He started, sounding terribly bored. "Because you have been abandoned by your mother and sent to live with your father, me, who you have never met before and therefore don't have any attachment to. Some people think that childhood abandonment can contribute to mental health and behavioural issues as an adult. Maternal deprivation can lead to many things including low intelligence, depression, increased aggression and affectionless psychopathy to name a few. Seeing as sociopathy runs in our family we really can't risk it."

"Make's sense." Sophia said even though, in her mind, it totally didn't.

"Sophia..." Margaret said, leaning forward with her hands clasped together. She looked over at Sherlock with a strange look in her eyes, as if she didn't really approve of him. "How to do you feel about your father?" Sophia looked up at her, brows furrowed and a frown on her face. "Do you enjoy spending time with your daddy?" Sophia thought for a second.

"Yes." She answered firmly. "He's more fun than mommy is. He talks to me more than she did. He answers my questions" Margaret scribbled something down in her notepad. Sophia sighed. She thought it was rather rude that she wasn't showing her or her daddy what she was drawing or writing. Sophia always let everyone see her drawings.

"What type of questions do you ask your daddy?" Margaret asked, not looking up from her notebook. Sophia shrugged.

"Better ones than you're asking me." She sighed. "My mummy said that people who ask too many personal questions are nosy bitches."

"Do you miss your mummy?" Margaret asked, not even flinching. Sophia bit her lip in thought. She shrugged and looked back down at her paper, clearly not wanting to answer. She began drawing again, pretending that nobody else was in the room. "If your mummy came into this room now and asked you to come home with her, what would you say?"

"But she won't. She said she's never coming back because I've been naughty."

"But say she did..."

"But she won't." Sophia cried, looking up at her father. She shook her head in disbelief. "She's on a long holiday with her boyfriend on a beach somewhere. Daddy tell her."

"She's asking the question hypothetically." Sherlock said. Sophia had never seen him so bored before. It drained her just looking at him. "Pretend. It won't happen. She just wants you to pretend it will so she can judge your mental health based on the answer."

"Mr Holmes..." Margaret said, trailing off. She looked back at Sophia and let her face soften. "OK then, if you don't want to answer my question I'm not going to force you to."

"Good." Sophia snapped back. The room was filled with silence for a second or so. Sherlock watched his daughter with a smirk. At least she wasn't letting herself be forced into anything that she didn't want to do. He looked up at the therapist who didn't seem so impressed with his smile. He cleared his throat and looked away. He really did need John around to tell him when it was and wasn't OK to smile.

"Why don't we play a game?" The therapist asked. Sherlock's smirk really did disappear then. He couldn't think of worse way to spend his time.

/

"That was the most tedious experience of my life." Sherlock concluded when he was finally back in the waiting room with John. Sophia clung to his hand, seeming contempt enough. She was silent as they left the building and only spoke when they got into the taxi.

"I drew you a picture but the lady wouldn't let me take it home to give to you." She said, somewhat sadly. She looked up at John and frowned. "She was very nosey."

"That was her job." John replied softly. "To ask you questions and get to know you so that she can help you and your dad."

"Help us do what?"

"Become closer and be a good family." John answered awkwardly. Sophia didn't look so convinced. She turned her attention away and looked out of the window. John caught Sherlock smirking, clearly proud that his daughter wasn't so impressed with therapy. The rest of the journey was spent in silence until John spoke up.

"This isn't the way back to the flat."

"I know. While you were sorting out Sophia and her booster seat I asked the driver to take us to St Barts." Sherlock replied. "I have things to do."

"We can't take a five year old to a morgue." John exclaimed, trying to keep his voice level and calm.

"What's a morgue?" Sophia asked without looking away from the window.

"It's where dead bodies are kept." Sherlock said without missing a beat. Before John had time to scold him he was already talking again, but this time to him. "Nonsense. She'll love it. She can spend time with Molly."

"Molly!" Sophia cheered. Sherlock gave John a look that read 'told you so'. "She bought me new clothes! I'm wearing my pretty new clothes now." She said, looking down at her t-shirt and jeans. "My t-shirt has a kitty on it. I really like kitties. Does Molly like kitties?" She rambled on like that until they got to the morgue in the hospital. Sherlock and John were given many strange looks for leading the girl down to the morgue.

Upon seeing her, Sophia ran up to Molly and wrapped her arms around her legs. Molly jumped slightly in shock, awkwardly returning the hug she shot a look over towards Sherlock and John.

"Oh, Sophia. What a surprise." She said, her eyes not leaving Sherlock's.

"It was Sherlock's idea." John replied. Molly nodded slightly as if she didn't expect any less. She lifted Sophia up and placed her on her hip. The young girl squealed happily and wrapped her arms around the woman's neck, pushing her face into her hair.

"I was thinking you could spend some time with her." Sherlock said as he removed his scarf and coat. "She needs a womanly figure in her life and John is just not doing the job today. Maybe you can talk about... your cats." Sherlock flashed a charming smile and then set off to where they kept the bodies. Sophia's face lit up. She leant forward until her nose was almost brushing up against Molly's own.

"I _love _cats." She whispered, somewhat psychotically.

/

Sherlock frowned and tried to refocus the lens of the microscope. He was examining a slice of skin from the hand of a middle aged man who had drowned. He leant backwards after a second or two to write something down in his notebook.

"Daddy." Sophia's voice said. Sherlock didn't jump in shock. That wasn't his style. Instead he turned slowly with wide eyes to look down at her. She stared back up at him with a furrowed brow, looking confused and thoughtful.

"You're supposed to be with John and Molly." He told her. She ignored him, instead climbing up onto the stool next to Sherlock. It took her a good few seconds to get up there. When she did she smiled triumphantly, swinging her legs out of time below her. "How did you get away from them?"

"John went to buy me something to eat from the cafe upstairs because I'm hungry and somebody came in to talk to Molly about some important adult stuff. I heard the man say something about a body." Sophia replied calmly. She turned, her eyes meeting her fathers. They were wide and blue. Sherlock stared back at her, wondering if she really did look so much like him. For the briefest moment he saw her mother in her but it was soon gone. "Daddy, why do people die?"

"It's out biological fate. Death is the only certainty in life. We are born and we die. Everything in between is just wasting time. Our bodies become physically and biologically incapable to work for whatever reason. Old age, sickness, murder, accident. People just die." He babbled as he continued to look down his microscope. Sophia frowned and nodded her head ever so slightly.

"I had a cat once. I found him on the street and I took him into my house and gave him milk and jam sandwiches and chocolate. Then one day he died and it was really sad and I cried." She said calmly. Sherlock looked over at her. She was staring ahead with a blank expression on her face. He looked back down into the microscope before she had chance to notice his staring. "He wasn't old or sick or murdered or in an accident. He was ginger and fluffy and he had lots of little bugs climbing on him."

"The lactose content in cows milk is too high for a cat. Giving the cat nothing but milk will dehydrate the cat. Bread is OK but not all the time. Their system needs more oils and proteins. The sugar in the jam may or may not have given the cat diabetes. It's more probable that the cat's death was to do with the chocolate you fed him. The theobromine in chocolate is toxic to cats and would have likely given him seizures, muscle spasms and excessive first which would have been made worse by the milk. Yes, it was most likely to be the chocolate." He finished and looked up at Sophia who was staring at the table, trying to grasp a hold of what he had just said. She met his eyes, her mouth opened to speak again but was cut off by the door being flung open.

"I'm so sorry." Molly blustered as she scurried into the room and scooped Sophia up onto her hip. The little girl giggled happily and clung to the woman's shoulders. Molly turned to her, trying to keep her face stern but seeming far too amused by the little one. "I told you not to run off."

"I had to ask daddy a question." Sophia replied with a shrug of her shoulders. She looked back down at her dad and stuck out her bottom lip. "I want a pet." Sherlock decided that was his time to zone out of the conversation.

/

John didn't know, and didn't ask, where, when and why Sherlock had learnt how to plait hair so well. He doubted it came up a lot in his day to day lives or even his cases. However well he was doing it, though, Sophia didn't like it. She whined and moaned every time the brush was pulled through her hair. By the time it was done, and Sherlock let her go, she ran forwards as if being released from being held hostage. She glared back at her father who just rolled his eyes and placed the brush back down onto the table. Her hair was neatly put into two plaited pigtails at the back of her head. John felt his mouth open and close as he tried his hardest to make himself ask how on earth Sherlock learnt how to braid a little girl's hair. Sherlock shot him as look before he could, telling him to drop it or he will regret it in the near future.

"Oh, Sophia." Mrs Hudson cooed. She was making quite a fuss that morning. She kept taking photographs and talking about how important it was to have a 'good first day of school'. "You look so smart." Sophia frowned as she looked down at her brand-new pinafore.

"I don't like it." She said, tugging at the sleeves of the blazer. John handed her her new backpack which was already full. Sherlock thought it was strange the amount of stuff that the school suggested a six year old child to bring in. They even suggested packing a protractor into the pencil case. What on earth would a six year old do with a protractor? He understood why he was giving her a packed lunch, a water bottle, a few pens and blunt plastic scissors but what on earth did she need with a calculator or a set of highlighters or a watch for? She couldn't tell the time yet. She was six. She was rather slow for her age, she couldn't even spell her own name yet. What did a six year old, who insisted on bringing a stuffed bear to school with her, need with a calculator?

"Sophia, darling, stand next to your daddy." Mrs Hudson said, waving her camera at them.

"Oh, no, no." Sherlock replied with a wave of his hand but Mrs Hudson wasn't having it. She decided to physically place Sherlock and Sophia in the right place. Sherlock smiled awkwardly while Sophia beamed at the camera. A few flashes of the camera blinded the pair and soon John was ushered into the photograph. He stood on the other side of Sophia with a hand on her shoulder and a warm smile on his face.

Once all the photographing nonsense was over John handed Sophia her new backpack and placed the straw boater hat on her head. She frowned and shifted the hat around on her head as her father lead the way out of the room. Sherlock didn't actually understand why Sophia couldn't just go in the taxi on her own if they gave her the money. John said she was too young but Sherlock thought she was smart enough and, if she wasn't, she would soon learn.

"Do you _promise _to come and pick me up after school?" Sophia asked, tugging at his sleeve as they walked down the stairs. "Like... really promise?"

"Yes." He replied, feeling her hand slip into his. "John and I are legally required to personally pick you up from school every day unless we call in advance and tell them otherwise."

"Are you ever going to send somebody else to pick me up?" She asked as they left the building. Sophia blinked back the morning sun. Sherlock thought for a second.

"Probably, one day when I'm on a case." He answered. "I'll send Molly or Mycroft to collect you." Sophia seemed to be content with that answer. She nodded to herself once before nodding again more vigorously just because she enjoyed the feeling of the hat wobbling on her head.

/

**_Important Authors Note: _**_whaddup _

_My first order of business is to tell you that this is AFTER THE FALL. But I do hear you all crying 'Where's Mary? You're not one of those people who HATES MARY MORSTAN?!' and in answer to that: I love nothing more than Mary Morstan. Amanda Abbington is everything I want to be and more. So worry not! **Mary will be in this story! **We'll be picking up with the whole 'things that Moffat and Gaitiss actually wrote' asap. _

_Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews. They make me all smile so much and brighten my day. _

_Thank you for reading, have a lovely day _


	4. The First Day Of School

Sherlock was the first person who stormed into the flat after picking Sophia up from her first day of school. John looked up from his laptop. His flatmate looked infuriated, as if he had just had the worst taxi journey of his life. John couldn't help but smirk to himself. He quickly closed down the chat he had been having with a certain... friend. He'd tell them about her but not today. Not on Sophia's first day of school. It was her day. John couldn't ruin it for her.

"And Clementine has _two ponies_ and Sebastian has three lizards _and _a snake and Anastasia has one pony, three kitty cats, two dogs _and _a parrot." Sophia babbled as she followed Sherlock into the room. He sank down into the sofa and, with his forefingers and index fingers, rubbed his temples with his eyes closed.

"If all your classmates in school had a flesh eating disease would you want one as well?" He snapped. Sophia stayed still at the doorway. She thought for a second or so while hanging up her hat up on the hat rack. She dropped her backpack to the floor before closing the door behind her, both will loud thuds. By that time she seemed to have thought enough about her father's question.

"I don't know what that is." She said. "Is it a pet?" Sherlock let out an annoyed growl and jumped up, landing into a lying position on the sofa.

"You can't have a pet, Sophia." He said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"But I want a pony." Sophia whined, climbing up on the sofa behind her father. "Please." She pulled back her father's hair and lent down to his ear before whispering "Please, daddy." Sherlock tried to bat her away. She managed to wrap her arms around his slim neck before she could fall, almost strangling her dad in the process. "Daddy! Please!"

"Sophia, where on earth would we keep a pony?" John asked, turning from his laptop.

"In daddy's room." Sophia replied instantly, smiling as she climbed on top of her father as if he was a hill.

"And where will your dad sleep?" John asked, watching as Sophia began trying to wedge herself between her father and the backrest of the sofa.

"On the streets." She said simply. "Mummy said that daddy always used to sleep on the streets because he wanted crack. It makes sense because there are cracks in the pavement. Daddy is very clever." John was frozen in shock for a second or two. Upon hearing this Sherlock's eyes popped open. Sophia was only millimeters away from his face. Her nose brushed against his. She smiled at him innocently. He smirked to himself, trying not to let John know that he was dying to laugh.

"Your dad's not sleeping on the street." John said finally. Sophia let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes dramatically. She took after her father in that sense. "Now, what will we have for dinner?" John got to his feet, looking over at the father and daughter squished together on the sofa. "Do you want to chose, Sophia?"

Sophia didn't exactly realise that John meant she could chose what _she_ ate. Instead she insisted that everybody ate what she was eating. This is why John and Sherlock sat at the kitchen table with Sophia, all eating dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets with salad and chips. The salad was John's idea. Both Sherlock and Sophia pushed it around on their plates like it was full of poison.

"This is the tree and this is the dinosaur and this is the blood!" Sophia cheered as she squirted half a bottle of ketchup all over her food. John reached over, pulling the bottle from her before she could waste it all on one chip. She smiled to herself, stabbing her fork into a stegosaurus before shoving it into her mouth.

"You haven't told us." John started, looking down at the six year old. "How was school?"

"OK." She said with a shrug, mouth full of food. "Nobody said I looked dirty. A girl said that she liked my hair."

"Oh that's nice." John said with a smile. Sophia nodded.

"I had to introduce myself in front of the whole class and I got scared but I did it anyone." Sophia said proudly. "I said 'my name is Sophia and I live at home with my daddy and my daddy John and our lamp-lady and my daddy is a detective and daddy John is his helper." She paused, took a deep breath and then continued. "And my favourite thing ever is kittens and puppy dogs and dinosaurs and my favourite food is cake and I got a really high score on the barbie game where you have to dress her up really quickly."

"Well, that's her CV sorted out." John muttered, earning a smirk from Sherlock. They looked over at Sophia to see if she had heard or was going to add more to her list of achievements. She wasn't even looking at them though. She was too busy with the dinosaur shaped food.

"Roar." She whispered under her breath. Her voice grew deep and rumbled in her throat. "My name is Sherlock the Stegosaurus." She tore off a piece of lettuce and tried her hardest to wrap it around the dinosaur. "This is my scarf and this is my John and this is my Sophia." John smiled to himself. Sophia clearly wasn't aware that the two men were watching her. It was rather sweet. Well, it was sweet up until... "OH NO. I HAVE APPEARED TO HAVE EATEN JOHN OH NO!"

/

The next week, Sherlock was on a case. It was one of those cases that he didn't need John on. One of the more obscure cases that John just really couldn't be bothered with. He would much rather stay at home and have a calm, totally not dangerous day anyway.

By the time it got to ten to three Sherlock still wasn't back. Part of John had a suspicion that it was intentional. He had mumbled something about never picking his daughter up from school again. So John took it upon himself to catch a taxi down to the school to pick her up. It wouldn't be too tortuous, surely. As long as she didn't go on and on about wanting a pet again. There was only so many times you could explain to someone that they couldn't have a pony until you wanted to smash your head against a brick wall.

John started to feel a bit out of place when he was waiting in the playground for Sophia to come out of class. All the parents, or nannies, were dressed up in formal wear as if they had all come from the exact same board meeting. They wore sunglasses and spoke quickly into headsets or Iphones. Few of the parents spoke to each other and if they did it was in low voices casting quick glances in John's direction.

"JOHN!" Sophia screamed at the top her lungs the moment she saw him. She ran over, jumping into his arms. He laughed and balanced her on his hip. She began to babble about something excitedly but John didn't really have time to take it in. He nodded and mumbled a few words of acknowledgement before turning to leave.

"Mr Holmes?" A voice asked. John paused, wondering if Sherlock was around. He turned towards the voice to see a tall, thin woman smiling back at him. "Are you Sophia's father?"

"Erm... no. I'm her father's... flatmate." He answered awkwardly. "John Watson."

"I'm Sophia's teacher. May I have a word with you in private?" The woman asked. John nodded, placing Sophia down on the floor and taking her hand. Sophia sighed and rolled her eyes making John guess that she probably had an idea why her teacher wanted to talk to him. She mumbled something under her breath but John didn't catch it and before he could ask, they were already in the classroom.

"Sophia, do you want to go and sit in the reading corner?" The teacher asked. Sophia stared up at her blankly, her hand not leaving John's. In that moment she reminded John far too much of Sherlock. Annoyed at 'ordinary' people. He took in a breath. Whenever Sherlock looked like that he usually offended someone.

"I can't read." She said simply. "That's why I'm in school." The teacher forced out a smile. There was a look behind her eye that John knew all too well. It was the look most people got when Sherlock had been annoying them for too long.

"Do you want to go and play with the doll house?" The teacher asked, trying her best to keep her voice level and calm. Sophia frowned at her, looked up at John and then back at the teacher.

"Go on, Sophia." John said, letting go of her hand. Sophia let out a heavy sigh and turned on her heal. She was certainly getting Sherlock's attitude. Whether she had inherited it or learnt it from all the times Sherlock threw a tantrum at home, John didn't know.

"I just want to talk about an issue that has emerged during class time." The teacher said with the same fake smile as she sat down on one of the small chairs next to a small table. John took a seat as well, his knees almost touching his chest. "I'm aware that Sophia's mother isn't around..."

"Not at this time, no." John answered, wondering where this conversation was going. The teacher nodded and made a few 'mmmm' noises. She nodded her head understandingly.

"Sophia has been quoting her mother a lot in class." She said. John knew where this was going. He let out a sigh and shook his head. "We're used to that, of course. 'My daddy says this' and 'my mummy says that'. That's fine. It's just that Sophia has been using some very... colourful language in the classroom. I've had a few complaints from concerned parents and guardians. They say that their children have been taught swear words in classroom."

"I'm so sorry." John sighed. "It's an issue we're trying to deal with." The teacher didn't look too impressed with that reply. John didn't know what else he could say. His brain went blank for a second or two before he decided that he needed to play the sympathy card. He shifted in the small seat and looked the teacher in the eye. "Sophia has had a rough start in life. Her social worker promised us that this will be looked at during her therapy sessions but there are a lot more serious, bigger problems that need to be dealt with first."

This was about the time that Sophia looked up from the doll house and over at John. She was so bored. She had spent all day playing in school, she wanted to go home and see her daddy instead. He usually came to pick her up from school, it was strange that he wasn't here.

Maybe he was outside. He did say that he thought her teacher was stupid and he couldn't stand being in the same room as her for more than a few minutes. Yes, that was probably it. He was probably waiting outside. It was sad that he must be outside alone. So with that in mind, Sophia got to her feet and headed towards the open door at the other side of the classroom.

The toys outside had been packed away and the sandpit had been covered up. Sophia sighed. The sandpit was her favourite part. They were allowed to go and play on it as long as the teacher wasn't trying to do something boring like make her counting and spelling. Not reading though. Sophia actually liked being able to read. Of course, she found it really difficult and she couldn't read as well as all the other kids but she was trying her hardest. She could read little words and a lot of the time she just pretended.

Suddenly, something rolled towards Sophia, hitting the front of her shoes. She frowned and looked down. It was a small, red ball. Not one from school. The balls in school were cleaner and the size of footballs. This ball was the size of a tennis ball. A grubby but shiny red colour that stood out against the grey floor and the black of Sophia's shoes.

"Excuse me." A voice said. Sophia looked up. There was a man standing pressed against the gate, his face pressed between the iron slats. He had big brown eyes and matching brown hair. He had a kind smile and Sophia concluded that he seemed very nice. "Can I have my ball back?" Sophia looked back down at the ball, picking it up with one hand.

"Why do you have a ball? You're a grownup." She said walking towards the gate. The man shrugged, reaching through the gate for his ball. Sophia stopped before she got close enough for him to reach her.

"I don't know." He drawled. "It's like a stress toy. I have a stressful job." He had a strange sounding voice, like the pretty dinner lady who gave her the biggest cake and told her she had pretty eyes. She told Sophia that she wasn't from England, she was from Ireland and that's why she spoke differently. She also told Sophia that she knew where the leprechauns hid in the school. Did that mean that this man was from Ireland? She stared at him for a while. He didn't really look like the nice dinner lady.

"Are you from Ireland?" She asked. The man let out a small laugh.

"Yes. Yes I am." He said, letting his arm drop.

"Do you know my dinner lady? She's from Ireland too!" Sophia asked.

"I might." The man said with a small smirk. Sophia grinned. She'd have to ask her dinner lady if she knew him. She might be far more clever than this man was or maybe she would have a better memory. "What's your name?" The man replied.

"Sophia." She replied proudly. "I'm not from Ireland. I'm from... mummy's house. I don't live with her anymore. She ran away with her boyfriend. Now I live with Daddy and his boyfriend. His boyfriend is much nicer than Mummy's boyfriend."

"Sophia Holmes." The man repeated, dragging out eat syllable of her name. She frowned slightly. She hadn't told him her last name. This man was rather strange. Then again, lots of people in school said daddy was strange. That didn't make him a bad person. Did it?

"What's your name?" She asked, finally taking a step forward and giving him the ball.

"Jim." He said with a grin as he took the ball, his hand grazing against hers.

"SOPHIA!" A voice called. It was John. Sophia beemed. She could introduce John to her new friend Jim.

"Time to go." Jim said. He pressed a finger to his lip, an indication for her to be quiet. She giggled. She liked having secrets. Adults had secrets and now she felt very much like an adult.

She watched as Jim left, walking down the street as casual as could be. She waved at him but he didn't turn back to wave at her. Rude, she thought as she spun around just in time to see John coming out of the school and into the play ground.

"There you are." John sighed. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for daddy." She said before letting out another giggle. John didn't know she had a secret. He didn't have any secrets that Sophia knew about. That meant she was more of an adult than he was.

"Your daddy's out on a case." John explained, taking Sophia's hand in his. "He might be back when we get home." Sophia smiled. She really had missed her daddy that day. She had missed him so much in fact that she soon almost completely forgot about Jim.

/

**_A/N: _**_Thank you for reading my beautiful little human. Please review and have a lovely day._


	5. The Case

"We can't take her with us. For God's sake, Sherlock. She's six years old." John snapped rather angrily as he stood by the door, watching Sherlock get his daughter ready. She was still in her pink pyjamas and was half asleep as he rather stuffed her feet into her hot-pink wellington boots. He would have told her to get dressed but there was no time now. She would have to make do with being in her pyjamas for the next few hours. Of course, Sherlock thought, this could have all been avoided if Sophia didn't sleep in like a teenager. She would sleep in until past midday if they let her.

"We have no other option." Sherlock replied calmly. "It's too early in the morning. Nobody's going to babysit now." He reached over for Sophia's coat, pulling it off of the hanger. Sophia yawned and rubbed her eyes. She was much easier to handle when she was half asleep. She did as she was told and didn't object to anything. She was kind of like a rag doll, Sherlock thought as he pushed her arms through the sleeves of the duffel coat, also pink.

"Molly?" John asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Family visit home." Sherlock shot back.

"Mrs Hudson."

"Not out baby sitter." Sherlock quoted with a quick roll of the eyes.

"Mycroft."

"I'd never hear the end of it." Sherlock grumbled, mostly to himself and then to John: "You've met the man. He's worse with a child than I am. By the time I get her back she'll be traumatised. All he'll do is call her stupid and tell her that her dreams won't amount to anything." He was clearly thinking back to his own childhood now, glaring off into the distance for a second or so before snapping himself out of it. "Anyway, it will do her good."

"Good?" John repeated in disbelief before letting out a scoffing noise. "Good? She's six years old, Sherlock. I can't even start to comprehend the damage it will do to her if she sees... whatever she might see at a crime scene."

"Well she won't actually see the corpse." Sherlock said, as if John was an idiot. He zipped up the front of Sophia's coat and stood up straight.

"Oh God." John mumbled under his breath. "You're setting her up for a lifetime of psychological damage."

"Then she'll fit right into the family." Sherlock smirked, taking Sophia's hand and leading her out of the door and down the stairs. John followed them, still desperately trying to think of a way to convince Sherlock to drop Sophia off with someone else. Deep down he knew there was no way he was going to win. Sherlock was stubborn.

At least, he thought as they hailed a cab, she was so tired she'd probably sleep right through it.

/

She didn't.

The idea of a new, exciting adventure woke her up as much as ten cups of coffee would. She bounced up and down in her seat and begged the adults to tell her where exactly they were going and why.

"It's my job." Sherlock explained slowly.

"Your detective job." Sophia added with a firm nod of her head. "Are you going to find the lost kitten or the old lady's jewels?"

"No. The unidentified body of a young male fell through the ceiling of house. I'm going to tell the police what happened because they're too dense to figure it out themselves." Sherlock said before John could stop him. Sophia nodded, as if this was totally normal and understandable.

"Maybe..." She started, taking in a gulp of air. "Maybe he was a superhero and he just got tired and fell asleep while he was flying and then BANG, fell into the person's house."

"Possibly." John said before Sherlock could jump in and ruin her childhood, innocent imagination. Sherlock shrugged but didn't say no. Sophia smiled to herself smugly. This detective thing is easy, she thought to herself as she sank back into the taxi's seat.

/

The journey was far too long for Sophia's liking. By the time they got out of the car, Sherlock and John had already silently vowed to themselves to never take a six year old on a journey that long again. At least, John added in his mind, not without a hand full of crayons and a colouring-in book. Sophia had also made a promise to herself and it was to never let herself be that bored ever again in her entire life.

"Ah, Sherlock." A voice boomed. Upon seeing all the people crowding around this one house, Sophia panicked. There were police men, men and women in light blue jumpsuits, tall people in suits, people being pushed back by police because they were getting too close. Sophia instantly grabbed onto her father's hand, pushing herself into his side.

A man walked up to them. He was much taller than Sophia (but then again most people were) and didn't seem panicked by all the people. He wore a suit and didn't have that look on his face that most people had when they met her daddy. He looked almost happy to see him. "Glad you're here. We don't know much apart from he definitely fell through the roof. We don't know where from or why or who he is. "He babbled on for a bit longer before breaking off from his sentence a moment after his eyes landed on Sophia. She smiled up at him sheepishly. "What on Earth?"

"Lestrade, this is Sophia. Sophia, this is Gideon Lestrade." Sherlock said rather formally.

"Greg." Lestrade corrected, absent-mindedly. He stared at Sophia for a while longer. She didn't like it and hid behind her father ever so slightly. "Sherlock, why is there a little girl with you."

"We don't have a babysitter." Sherlock said casually. "Couldn't leave her on her own. There's some sort of... law against it or something." Lestrade still looked confused. He looked back and forth from Sherlock, John and Sophia.

"Is she... John's niece?" He guessed.

"She's Sherlock's daughter." John pointed out with a smirk. They watched as Lestrade's face was taken over with complete and utter shock.

"No." He said, shaking his head. A grin spread. "No. She can't be... Sherlock can't have... no."

"It would seem so." Sherlock said quickly. Sophia looked around. She wondered why they were here, standing outside. Why did adults have to do this? Stand around and talk for so long about things that were so boring. When she was an adult, she would never do that.

"Come on, freak. You need to be quick today." A woman said. Sophia looked up with a frown. The word 'freak' was a nasty word. In school they were told that it was a word that hurt other people. The lady, who was walking towards them, must be a nasty person if she wanted to hurt other people. "I don't know if I even want to ask." She said when she stopped, eyes landing on Sophia. Sherlock let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. He started to walk towards the house, pulling Sophia along behind him.

"Whoever she is, she can't come inside." The woman said, putting a hand out to stop Sherlock. "This is a crime scene and she's about four."

"I'm six." Sophia snapped at the nasty lady.

"Well, I can't exactly leave her on the street can I, Donovan?" Sherlock snapped. The lady, Donovan, shook her head in disbelief.

"You shouldn't even be here. I draw the line at you bringing in abducted children in to gawp at a dead body." She said. Sophia didn't know what the word 'abducted' meant but it didn't sound like a good word. It sounded like one of the big, scary words adults used that she didn't know the meaning to. Like attitude or homicide or cancer or assignment or prostitute or no-good-fucking-knob-head.

"She's not abducted." Sherlock said, spitting the last word, further reinforcing Sophia's idea that the word was certainly not a very good word.

"You're not saying that she's yours, are you?" Donovan exclaimed. Sherlock didn't reply. He pushed past her and walked towards the house. Sophia tried to keep up, clutching to his hand and stumbling behind him.

"Sherlock, you really can't take a child into a crime scene." Lestrade called as he followed them, John trying to keep up just like Sophia was. "Sherlock!" He let out a dramatic sigh, stopping in the hallway of the house and stomping his foot like a child. He turned back to Lestrade and John, giving them a moment to catch up.

"The crime scene is upstairs, in the attic." Sherlock pointed out slowly. Sophia knew that voice. He used that voice when she didn't understand something and he had already explained it ten times. It was a voice that made her chest hurt and her throat close up. "I'll leave Sophia down here." He made a dramatic show of letting go of her hand. She desperately wanted to grab hold of her daddy's hand again. She didn't like it here. There were too many people, too much noise, too much sadness and she didn't know why.

John quickly escorted Sophia into the living room. There wasn't much for a child to do. It was all boring adult stuff like vases and bowls of fruit. There wasn't one box of crayons in sight.

"Sophia, daddy and I need to go upstairs and do our job. It's very, very important that you stay down here until we come back for you. Is that understood?" John said, slowly and clearly. He had that look on his face that was there whenever he was being really serious. That expression always made Sophia itch to do the exact opposite of what she had been told.

"But this is boring." She whined, looking over into the hallway. She could still see her daddy talking to Lestrade. "Why can't I go with you and daddy?" John hesitated. Sophia let out another long whine and fell back onto the white sofa behind her. Everything in this room was either white or made out of glass. "I want to go home."

"Send one of your men down to the shop." Sherlock started. His voice was firm and demanding. It made Sophia rather scared. "Buy me crayons, paper and whatever else they can find to amuse her small mind for as long as possible."

"I can do it." John offered, turning to the two men in the hallway, only a few feet away.

"No. I need you." Sherlock said, setting off towards the stairs and out of Sophia's sight. "Get Anderson to do it." He called back. Lestrade let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. Sophia watched him. She thought that it was rude that her daddy didn't say please but Lestrade seemed like a nice enough man to do it anyway. He left the house, leaving the front door wide open and Sophia alone.

She was a good girl.

She waited.

For about ten minutes.

Then she got bored and jumped to her feet, walking out into the hallway. She wanted to see daddy. She had never seen him do his job before. Mrs Hudson had showed her a photograph of him in the newspaper. She had an old one under her coffee table. She said she collected all the ones with daddy in and that Sophia could have them all when she was old enough. Anyway, in that photograph Sherlock was wearing a strange hat. She didn't like it but she figured that maybe he had to wear it for his job. Maybe he was wearing that today.

She crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. She was good at that. She always had been. When mummy was asleep, after she stayed up all night shouting and singing and drinking horrible tasting drinks with her boyfriends, Sophia had to be silent otherwise mummy would shout and hit her. Or worse, her mummy's boyfriend would wake up and smack her.

"It's simple!" Sophia heard her dad cry. "How do you people survive when you can't see something that's so obviously clear right in front of you?!"

"Alright, Sherlock. Stop being a drama queen." John warned. Sophia crept across the landing. There weren't many people around anymore. Just Lestrade, Sherlock, John and a sleeping man all in one room at the end of the corridor. She tip-toed over to the doorway, peaking around the door so she could just about see what was going on.

The first thing that seemed odd was the sleeping man. Not only was he fast asleep on the floor, in the day time while there was lots and lots of people in the house, but he was also twisted and bent in the wrong way. His arm didn't look like a normal arm and the other arm was longer. His legs were sticking out at silly angles. There was red stuff everywhere as well. It was bright red, like ketchup, and it was everywhere. Splattered all over the floor, all coming from the man. Then Sophia noticed the hole in the ceiling. It was like an open window to the sky. She could see the clouds passing by and the planes flying over head.

"The man's an asylum seeker. You can tell from his shoes, his hair cut, his skin colour. He hasn't been in England long, doesn't like it, most probably due to the amount of rain we've had in the past week. He was going to America, much better there, sun, jobs, food, but he had no money so he does what every desperate immigrant would do if they needed to leave the country for a better life, he tried to get a free ride. Sneaked onto an airport runway, climbed up the retractable wheels and sat in that little compartment. It's big enough for at least two people, three at a squeeze, comfy journey across the Atlantic. Bit of a shaky start but as long as our young man here held on to something it would be fine." Sophia didn't understand any of this really but she was amazed at how quickly her father could talk and how clever he sounded. It made her feel strangely proud of him. "As the plane goes up the colder it gets but that's bearable, oxygen levels decrease the man feels a bit light headed until he blacks out, loses his grip and falls." He mimed a falling man with his finger, crashing into his other hand which, Sophia guessed, was supposed to be the house they were now in.

"There you are!" A voice hissed as a hand reached out and grabbed Sophia's upper arm. "Are you trying to get me fired?" She was being dragged down the hallway before she could yelp or scream. She turned to see who was pulling her. It was a man who looked rather nasty with a big nose and small eyes. He dragged her down the stairs and back into the living room, only letting her go when they got to the white sofa and the glass coffee table.

She glared up at the man, crossing her arms and frowning. "You look just like him." The man said in disbelief, shaking his head. "I don't believe this."

"Like who?" Sophia asked. "And who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes." The man spat.

"You're not Sherlock Holmes. My daddy is Sherlock Holmes. I'm Sophia Holmes. I got daddy's last name when I moved in to live with him. Uncle Mycroft changed it." Sophia shot back.

"No. You look like Sherlock Holmes. I'm not Sherlock Holmes. I'm Philip Anderson." The man explained. He sounded rather annoyed. John always said that it wasn't fair for daddy to be angry or annoyed at Sophia when she couldn't understand something. He said it wasn't her fault she was just a child. She really wished John was there now. He'd tell Anderson off.

"Of course I look like Sherlock Holmes. He's my daddy." Sophia snapped. "If I met your daddy I'd think he looks like you. Everyone looks like their daddy in some way. Unless you're adopted like Tabitha. Her two daddies couldn't have a baby so they adopted her from China because they loved her that much but they don't look alike at all. That's OK though because her daddies say that they love her more than anything in the world and that they're a real family even if Cole said that they're not. Cole can shut up anyway because once he licked a snail for 2p and that's dirty and he could be really ill." She paused. "And 2p isn't a lot of money." She paused once more, looking up at Anderson with a sly smile. "And I didn't even give him the 2p." Anderson stared at her for a few seconds in stunned silence, thinking about how much like her father she was. He was still in shock that Sherlock even had a child. What woman would go near him willingly, let alone sleep with him? "When will daddy be done?"

"When he's finished showing off." Anderson snorted, earning a glare from the small child. "Look, I've done what I've been asked. I got you a notepad and some crayons and a bar of chocolate." He gestured towards the coffee table. Sophia followed his gaze. "You need to stay in this room until your father comes to get you. I'm not staying here. I'm not a baby sitter."

"You're not meant to take sweets from a stranger." Sophia said, eyeing up the bar of chocolate hesitantly.

"I'm not a stranger." Anderson shot back. "I work for Lestrade and he, for some reason, is 'friends' with your dad."

"But you are strange." Sophia pointed out. She looked away from the man now, bored of him already, and sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table. She decided that Lestrade seemed nice enough so she'd draw him a picture. Anderson wouldn't have a drawing because he wasn't very nice.

She would draw a picture of him one day.

But it wouldn't be a nice drawing

He'd be in a worryingly biased fight with a bear that had a gun.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_THANK YOU FOR READING! You're all the best little things the world has to offer. I hope you like this chapter! Don't worry, it's gonna get down into the series 3 business soon. _

_If any of you were interested, I write another Sherlock's daughter fanfic called Grace Under Pressure. If you could give that a read and then a cheeky review I'd be forever regretful. _

_Have a lovely day. Please review. I adore you all_


	6. The Girlfriend

"Why don't you go and play with the other children? There's jelly and colouring in." A larger woman, with a hat that looked to Sophia like a dead bird lying limp on her head, asked as she bent down to Sophia's level. Sophia shook her head and hid behind her father. "My grand-niece Pippa over there goes to your school. Why don't you go and play with her?" Sophia looked over to the girl sitting at the children's table. Pippa was the teacher's favourite and a horrid little girl. She wouldn't let Sophia play with her or her friends at break time. She said it was because Sophia was stupid and thus did not know how to properly look after the imaginary ponies that they played with. Sophia didn't want to play with them anyway. They smelt too much like posh perfume and their clothes were always too clean.

"Sophia's very shy." John lied, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She won't leave her father. She's a daddy's girl." He smiled at the woman who stood up straight and offered a fake smile back.

"Very well." She said. "But when you want to play with the children your own age, Pippa will show you around." With that she walked off, leaving John, Sherlock and Sophia standing by the buffet table awkwardly.

"Pippa's a bitch." Sophia said casually. "She doesn't like me."

"We don't use words like that, Sophia." John said as Sherlock tried to hold back a smirk. "Those are bad words. They hurt peoples feelings. Your therapist spoke to you about that, remember?" Sophia shrugged. She didn't care if she hurt Pippa's feelings. She hurt Sophia's feelings all the time and nobody told her off.

"Daddy." She sighed, looking up at her father. "Why are we here?"

"Daddy helped find a very important painting that had been stolen. The painting had been in this family for a long time so they were very happy that daddy got it back and they wanted to thank him." John explained before Sherlock had the chance. "By throwing him a party."

"But it's not his birthday." Sophia pointed out as she, with her spare hand, reached onto the table and picked up another small cake. "They can't have a party just because they are happy. That's silly. If we did that then I would have had a party last week when Molly came around and gave me Malala." She smiled at the memory. Molly had indeed visited the flat bringing along a brand new doll for Sophia. It was, in her words, the best day of her life.

"You named the doll Malala?" John asked with a smirk. Sophia nodded furiously, crumbs falling down her dress.

"Yes. I was watching television with daddy and there was a girl on it and her name was Malala and daddy said that she's real and she wanted girls in her country to be able to go to school and the big scary men didn't like that so they shot her in the face but she got better and she still tries to make everyone equal." She looked up at John with wide eyes full of awe. "How cool is that? She got shot in the face but she doesn't care. Daddy said if I got shot in the face I'd probably give up and that's true."

"You shouldn't be talking to your daughter about shooting her in the face." John hissed down Sherlock's ear. Sherlock shrugged, his concentration was more focused on a guest he was trying to deduce.

"It taught her a very valuable lesson about feminism." He mumbled. John sighed and tried not to smile at his friend. He took a breath, about to say something to Sherlock about how feminism was all very well and good but he was not going to wake up with Sophia in the middle of the night when she's had a nightmare about big scary men shooting her in the face.

"Attention please." A voice said. Sophia, who was busy trying to stuff another cake into her mouth, jumped in shock and spun around. The larger woman who had been speaking to them before was standing at the front of the large hall smiling at them all. "Thank you. We are here today to celebrate the return of an artwork that has been in our family for generations and I'd just like to thank the man who got it back to us. Without him we wouldn't have our painting back at home with us today, ready to be handed down to the next generation. So, could Sherlock Holmes please come up here. We have a small present for you. It's the least that we could do." The room erupted into a roar of applause as Sherlock and John headed up to the front of the hall, dragging Sophia along with them.

"If it's another deerstalker..." Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and their daughter Sophia." The woman announced. The applause grew a bit before dying down. Sophia hid behind her father. She didn't like everyone looking at her all at once. She wondered if this was why daddy have given Molly the money to buy her a nice new dress, so everyone could stare at her in it. She looked down at the pale blue dress. She liked that dress a lot. Molly said it went with her eyes.

"And for Sophia we have a present as well." The lady said, snapping Sophia from her thoughts. She looked up. Her daddy was staring at a shining, silver watch in disgust. The woman bent down to Sophia's level, handing her a parcel wrapped up in the most extravagant wrapping paper.

"Thank you." She whispered. The people of the party began to coo and 'aww'. Sophia didn't listen to them. She was too busy trying to unwrap the package. She hoped it was another doll. Malala could use a new friend.

But much to her disappointment, it wasn't a doll or even a teddy bear. She didn't even know what it was. It was grey and boring looking. She held it out in front of her and everyone laughed. She looked up at her daddy, her eyes full of panic. He just sighed and closed his eyes for a breif moment. He looked annoyed and that just made Sophia panic even more. The woman smiled and took the grey boring thing from Sophia's hands. She whimpered slightly as it went. You couldn't do that, Sophia thought angrily. You can't just give someone a present and take it away. No matter how boring it was.

She looked up at John angrily. He'd sort it out. Then suddenly the woman was placing the thing on her head. John smiled at her. Oh, she thought, it's a hat. Why was she given a hat? It wasn't that cold outside and she already had a hat at home.

"There we go. Just like daddy." The woman said as the crowd laughed once more. Sophia reached up and pulled the hat from her head. Looking at it, realisation dawned on her. It was daddy's hat! The hat that daddy wore in the newspapers. She quickly put it back onto her head and smiled smugly up at her daddy.

Take that Pippa, she thought happily. I am Sophia Holmes and I have my own Sherlock hat.

/

John looked down at the young girl sprawled across her dad's lap in the back of the taxi. She was fast asleep, face pressed up against her father's chest as one hand clutched loosely around his scarf. Her face was pink from the excitement of the day. She was still wearing that bloody deerstalker though.

"Sherlock." John said. The man made a noise of acknowledgement but continued looking out of the window. "That woman I've been seeing."

"Sandra." Sherlock said with a sharp nod.

"No..." John sighed.

"No." Sherlock agreed, looking over at him. "Alexandra? Joannah? Susan?"

"Mary." John exclaimed, trying his hardest not to wake Sophia up. He took a breath to steady himself. "Her name's Mary. She works at the clinic with me."

"Oh." Sherlock said simply, turning to look back out of the window.

"Well, it's been a good few months now and I think things are serious." He said.

"They were a joke before?" Sherlock asked with a frown.

"No. I mean..." John started. He sighed and decided not to beat around the bush. "Sherlock, I want her to come and meet you and Sophia. I think she's going to be a rather important part of my life and I'd like her to get to know the other two important parts of my life." Sherlock turned to meet his eye. His lips pressed together as if he was trying to hold back a smile and his brow knitted. John smiled at him, knowing this was the closest he'd get to a 'thank you' or a 'I feel the same way'. He watched as his friend nodding slowly, looking down at the sleeping child on his lap.

The cab pulled up outside 221B. John paid the driver as Sherlock carefully climbed out of the car with Sophia in his arms. "Thank you." John said to the cab driver as he got out. The cab drove away and sped off into the night, leaving John and Sherlock standing outside under the dim glow of the street lamps.

"So..." Sherlock started. John looked over at him. Sophia's head was resting on his shoulder. She was still fast asleep and still wearing that bloody hat. "When's she coming to meet us?" John grinned and nodded to himself, walking towards the door of 221B.

"Tomorrow." He said simply.

/

Sophia ran up the stairs, her school shoes pounding against the steps. She left her daddy behind to pay for the cab. She didn't have time to wait around for him. She was starving hungry. She shouted a 'hello' to Mrs Hudson as she ran up but didn't pause. Instead she ran and ran before pushing the door to the flat open and running straight to the kitchen. She grabbed a chair from the table and hauled it over to the counter. She needed to get this done before daddy came upstairs and caught her. It was almost too easy, she thought as she climbed up onto the chair and reached up to open the cupboard. So smiled to herself and reached out. Right in front of her, right there, was the special stash of chocolate biscuits and Sophia needed them.

"Not until after tea, Sophia." John's voice called. Sophia let out a yelp and jumped in fright. She turned to see John sitting in the living room smirking at her. There was the fault in her plan. She hadn't checked to see if John was there. He was, of course, and there was somebody else with him. A blonde woman smiling at her. "Put the chair back and come and say hello." John said. Sophia let out a dramatic sigh but did as she was told.

By the time she stomped into the front room Sherlock was already there, sitting in his seat. Sophia stood in the middle of the room, head hung in shame. She was going to be told off, she just knew it. Maybe John would hit her like mummy did.

"Sophia," John started in a voice that was far softer than Sophia had expected. "This is Mary Morstan. She's my girlfriend." Sophia looked up at the woman. She looked nice enough but Sophia was rather confused. She had never really thought about John having a girlfriend or doing anything that didn't involve Sherlock and Sophia. "Are you going to say hello?" John prompted rather nervously.

"No, John." Sophia sighed. "You can't have a girlfriend."

"Pardon?" John asked as Mary bit back a smile.

"You already have a boyfriend. You have daddy." Sophia said. Mary grinned happily and held back a laugh. Sherlock smirked while John just looked horrified.

"Daddy's not my boyfriend..." He started, seeming flustered.

"Yes he is." Sophia snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your boyfriend is somebody that you love and want to be with forever and you love daddy and daddy loves you."

"No, no, no. Sophia, there are different types of love." John tried to explain as he also tried to keep his cool. He took a deep breath and leant forward in his seat, reaching out and holding Sophia's hands that he peeled back from her chest. "There's love like I love Mary. That's the type of love you feel when you're older and it's a special type. Then there's love like you love your friends. You love Mrs Hudson don't you and she's not your girlfriend." Sophia nodded slowly. John could see it sinking into her mind.

"But I thought you and daddy were gay." She whispered, eyes wide with panic and horror. She looked over at her father and then back at John. "When we were in school we were talking about what we were and I said I was gay."

"What?" John asked. He was completely lost now. He shook his head and tried to hold back a laugh. This was ridiculous. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Claudette said her mummy and daddy are German so that means that she's German and Laurence said that his mummy and daddy were French so that means that he's French. I said that you and daddy were gay so that must mean that I am gay. Tabitha said that her daddies were gay so that means that she's gay as well." Sophia went silent for a second. She looked down at her feet sadly. "We were going to start a club."

"When your friends say they're German or French they're talking about what country they're from." John explained with a smile. "Your mummy and daddy are from England so you're English. Being gay means you like someone the same gender as you and there's nothing wrong with that. You'll just learn a lot more when you're older." Sophia nodded once more, finally dropping the situation. "Now..." John said, still holding onto her hands. "Are you going to say hello to Mary?" Sophia grinned and turned to Mary.

"Hello. My name's Sophia." She said sweetly. "Me and daddy have matching hats now."

"Hello Sophia." Mary smiled. "I think I might have something for you." She reached into her handbag that had previously lay abandoned at her feet. Sophia let out a small giggle of excitement. Over the past few days it seemed she was getting a lot of presents and she hadn't even done anything to deserve them. Oh God, she hoped it was another hat like daddy's. "Here you go." Mary said, handing the gift to Sophia.

It was far more better than a hat. Sophia's eyes grew as she held the present out in front of her. In her hands was a stuffed toy. Not just any stuffed toy though. A stuffed, cuddly horse with a mane and shiny eyes.

"Thank you." Sophia squeaked, pressing the horse against her chest. "I'm going to name her Emily."

"Oh that's a nice name." Mary commented with a warm smile.

"Like Emily Davison. Daddy said that she wanted women to have votes and a long time ago women weren't allowed to vote. So she fought so that women could vote just like men could." Sophia explained happily. "She threw herself in front of the King's horse at a race so she could get attention to her and her friends who were trying to get votes for women." Sophia smiled to herself and made the toy horse gallop across the sofa between John and Mary. "She died after that. She died so that girls could vote."

"There's another nightmare." John muttered under his breath as he pushed himself up to his feet. He patted Sophia on the head affectionately and glanced over at Sherlock who was smiling rather smugly. He began to wonder if this was the closest he'd ever get to see Sherlock Holmes proud of another human being. Turning back down to Sophia, who was making Emily the horse trot across Mary's lap. He felt himself smile and wonder why on earth he had worried about them all meeting in the first place.

"Anyone for a cup of tea?" He asked.

/

_**A/N: **You guys are the cutest things ever and I adore you and all of your reviews. I hope you like this chapter. Have a lovely day _


	7. The Nightmare

Children have different types of cries. There was the fake, pathetic one that was weak and used when they don't get there own way. There was one of panic when they had lost a parent in a supermarket. There was one of pain when they fell over and grazed their knees. There was the cry for no reason other than they were grumpy because they missed a nap. Then there was the cry you hoped to never hear. The cry of pure misery that came from deep down inside the child and filled the room. Sherlock had never heard a child cry like that before. Not until John and Mary announced they were moving out.

"I'm sorry." She screamed between gulps of breaths and sobs. "I don't want you to move out. I'm sorry. I won't spill my cereal on Mary's nice new dress ever again."

"Oh no, sweetheart." Mary comforted as she and John crouched in front of where she sat on the sofa. "That's not why we're moving. It's not your fault."

"When mummy left it was my fault." Sophia sobbed. "I don't want you to leave. Why do you have to leave?"

"Sophia, this flat is only meant to be for me and your daddy." John explained, smoothing down the girl's hair. "And then you came to live with us and that was hard but you're small so we made it work. Now that Mary's here... there's no room."

"But Mary sleeps in your room." Sophia yelled. "If she wants her own room she can have my room! I'll sleep in daddy's room with him. I don't mind." Mary couldn't help but smile. She reached forward and gave the young girl's hand a squeeze. She certainly felt like the villain in this situation. When she met John and found out about Sherlock she had vowed to herself to never come between them. She didn't exactly expect that to happen between John and Sherlock's daughter.

"It's what adults do, darling." She tried. "And you can come and visit us every single day if you want to and we'll come and visit you. We won't be that far away." She looked over at Sherlock for support but he was staring ahead blankly in his seat. He, like his daughter, wasn't exactly thrilled by the news of John and Mary's departure. She held back a sigh. She knew that they _had _to do this. They couldn't be a couple in a two bedroom flat with two other people, both of which walked into rooms without knocking. Sherlock would walk into the room at six in the morning talking about a case while Sophia would wake them up at four in the morning by jumping in their bed and telling them she had a nightmare about her mother.

"I thought you loved me." Sophia blubbered, wiping at her nose with the back of her sleeve. John felt his heart break.

"We do." He reassured her. "This flat is too small for all of us. It's nothing to do with you. We still love you very much and we'll come and see you every day."

"Think about all the attention you'll get from daddy and Mrs Hudson." Mary chimed with a smile. Sophia looked up at her quickly causing Mary to bite back a grin. "Without me and John here to distract them they'll have to spoil you rotten."

She sniffed and looked over at her father. That _was _a good point. She thought about it for, what felt to her like a lifetime but was probably only a few moments. With John and Mary gone there would be a spare room. John and Sherlock had always denied her a pony because there was no room. There would now be room for at least two horses if not five ponies. She felt herself nod.

Maybe John and Mary leaving wouldn't be too bad after all.

/

The first night John was away Sherlock didn't sleep. He wasn't going to say that he 'couldn't' sleep. If he wanted to he could. He just chose not to. He didn't need to. He had far more important things to do. Well, that's what he told himself. In actual fact he was just finding ways to waste time. He had finished cleaning out his mind palace and was now onto making small changes to his blog. Not that there was a point. Nobody went on it anyway.

He was changing the font to one of his blog titles when he heard her scream. He got to his feet lightning quick, rushing out of the door and towards Sophia's room in the blink of an eye. His mind ran over all of the worst situations his mind could imagine. He expected to see blood, smashed glass and a large man trying to stuff his daughter into a bag.

He kicked the door open and let his hand flick on the light switch. The room was bathed in light but didn't show Sherlock what he expected. The room was, in fact, as boringly ordinary as normal. No smashed glass, no half-agape window, no wild animal tracks. Sherlock frowned and let out a huff of disappointment as he turned to look as his daughter. "What?" He asked in a clipped voice.

"I had a nightmare." She yelled sounding as if she was having a full blown panic attack. "I dreamt mummy was trying to get me back with her nasty boyfriend and he kept hitting me and punching me and you didn't care. You told me you didn't like me anyway and then you hit me and John and Mary laughed." Sherlock held back a sigh and padded across the room to her bed.

"It was just a dream." He said. "Dreams have no affect on reality. Your mother hasn't asked for you back and if she did social services wouldn't let you go with her." He paused. She stared back with him, her face red and wet with tears. He never realised a dream could affect someone so much. They were just... dreams. "And I would never let anyone take you from me. I'd never hurt you or let anyone else hurt you."

"Really?" She sniffled. Her eyes were wide and full of disbelief. As if she had never even known these promises were possible and handed out daily.

"You never need fear a thing while I'm alive. I'll never let anyone lay a finger on you." Sophia smiled up at him but it was slowly lost, replaced with her face crinkling as more hot tears fell down her cheeks. She sucked in a deep, shaking breath the way children do when they sob.

"I'm sorry." She cried. She clasped her small hands over her eyes. "I've wet the bed."

"Oh." Sherlock said, totally at a loss. There was nothing that could have prepared him for this. There was nothing in his mind palace about what to do with a six year old child once she had wet the bed during a night-terror.

"You're not going to hit me are you? Mummy used to hit me when I wet the bed. She said I was a dirty little girl. She said I was naughty just like daddy." Sophia sobbed. Sherlock took a deep breath.

"What did I just tell you?" He asked, trying to keep calm. He leant over, reaching for her and scooping her out of the bed. He tried his hardest not to look at her in disgust when he caught the scent of urine coming from her. Holding her in the air for a second, he tried to figure out what to do. She squirmed uncomfortably in her now soaking yet pyjamas.

Of course this would be the first night that John wasn't here. He briefly wondered if he should call him and ask him what to do. Maybe he and Mary could come down and help out. No, he thought to himself. He was Sherlock Holmes. He didn't need help with anything. He worked alone. So with that firmly planted in his mind he carried his daughter, at arms length, to the bathroom and placed her on the toilet lid.

"Do not move." He said firmly as he turned on the taps to the bath. "Not an inch."

"OK." She replied as she watched her father speed out of the room. He went back to her room, stripping the bed and carrying the blankets out of the room. He found the washing machine that he hardly ever used (instead favouring for Mrs Hudson to do their laundry for them) and stuffed them in there.

When he got back to the bathroom Sophia was still sitting on the toilet lid in her stained pyjamas. She smiled up at him sleepily as he entered the room. She was so tired she barely even had time to realise what was happening. One moment she was sitting on the toilet lid and the next Sherlock had stripped her clothes from her and plonked her down in the bath. Sherlock himself, sat on the floor next to the tub, resting an arm across the rim.

The bathroom fell silent. It wasn't like the day time when you could hear Mrs Hudson's tv mumbling from downstairs or Sherlock playing his violin. Nighttime held it's own type of quietness where the only noise was the occasional rumble of a car or a street cat crying from somewhere.

"Daddy." Sophia said after a while of silence. Her legs were drew up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. She wasn't looking at Sherlock or anything in particular. Her blue eyes stared off into the distance, holding a glimmer of sadness in them. "Why does everybody have to leave me?" Sherlock felt his face fall. A pained sigh fell from his lips. Despite not being very good at 'human nature' and all that nonsense, it appeared that he had grew something of a small soft spot for his daughter. By that he meant that whenever he saw her upset he wanted to do something. Part of him smirked at the memory of Mycroft telling him that he would never be a real father. Idiot.

"Nobody's leaving you." Sherlock said calmly. "John and Mary aren't leaving us. They're moving away so they can have their own flat." Sophia didn't look very convinced. She turned to her father with her bottom lip sticking out and her cheek resting against her knees. "If anything, I think _I_ drove them out. I don't think Mary was too happy about me playing my violin at six in the morning last week." Sophia giggled causing Sherlock to let out a smile.

"I like it." She said, seeming a lot more cheerful now. "I think you're very good at the violin." Sherlock got to his feet with a smirk. He reached over for the flannel and soap before tossing them into the tub. Water splashed across the room. Sophia squealed in delight and curled into herself.

"Give yourself a wash." Sherlock said. "Leaving urine on your skin for too long with give you a rash. I can't be dealing with that and neither can you."

"Mummy had a rash once." Sophia declared as she rubbed the soap onto the flannel. Sherlock sat himself down on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. He let his eyes fall close. It was only then that he realised how tired he actually was. "She had it on her..." Sophia paused, looking up as if trying to find the right word. Sherlock felt himself freeze as well, opening his eyes slowly. He didn't know if he wanted to hear the rest of this story. "On her no-no place. She said it was because she slept with a dirty man."

Sherlock could feel the laughter jumping around in his chest. He ran a hand over his face to hide the smirk. It was both hilarious and heart breaking to hear his daughter say that. For one, Sherlock had just been told that his ex-girlfriend (if you could even call her that) still had copious amounts of unprotected sex with men she barely even knew. Then again, Sophia shouldn't have been exposed to that talk let alone be left alone with the woman for so long. A dull pain throbbed in Sherlock's chest. If only he had known that the stupid woman was pregnant...

"Finished!" Chimed Sophia, throwing her arms up into the air. Sherlock managed to push away his thoughts and get to his feet. The fluffy pink towel, Sophia's towel, was whipped from the radiator and held out. Sophia got to her feet, giggling as her father made a dramatic show of turning his head to give her privacy. The bathroom was far colder than the warm water of the bath. Goosebumps broke out over Sophia's pale skin before Sherlock wrapped the towel around her. She felt herself grow warm inside as a smile came across her face. "Mummy was wrong." She mumbled.

"She was wrong about most things." Sherlock confirmed with a nod.

"You're not a bad daddy." Sophia continued. "You're just funny."

/

**_A/N: _**_Ah, there we go. We're getting back on track with the story. I hope you all liked that chapter. You asked for more squishy Sherlock and Sophia cute family moments and I gave you them. I mean, what's cuter than wetting the bed? Probably most things but that's not the point_

_I read every single one of your reviews and I love them all so much. I made stupid noises in the middle of college and get strange looks because I adore you all so much. _

_please review, you get a free nod of approval from me and if I ever become a writer or became great chums with the entire cast of Sherlock I promise to invite you all round for tea and scones with Benidictator Crumblesnort_


	8. The Microscope Set

Living alone with her dad didn't prove to be too bad for Sophia. For one, she got to stay in her pyjamas all day if they weren't going out. John and Mary had always made her get a bath and get dressed every morning. They did the same to Sherlock as well, saying he couldn't walk around in just a sheet when Sophia and Mary were around. He still didn't walk around in a sheet but he did just wear his pyjamas like Sophia. His pyjamas were much more boring though. Sophia wanted him to get nicer pyjamas, ones that matched hers. A onesie with kitten ears on the hood. Her dad would look really nice in that.

John and Mary visited as often as they could and sometimes she would go and visit them in work when her dad had a 'case'. She'd sit behind the reception desk with Mary and help out by drawing nice pictures to put on the wall. Old ladies would lean over the counter and tell her how beautiful she was. One or two of them even gave her sweets and chocolate.

But one day John and Mary couldn't look after her. She and Sherlock were having chips in the living room watching a documentary on something called Chernobyl. She couldn't pronounce the name properly but, from what she gathered, there was a big explosion there and lots of radioactive stuff got into the air. A lot of people died and there were still people being hurt by it. It scared Sophia a bit but her dad said there was no point being scared. It had already happened. Being scared wouldn't change it.

They were showing a video from a helicopter when Mary ran into the room without even knocking. She began to babble something to Sherlock that Sophia couldn't catch. Sherlock got to his feet quickly, dropping his chips. Both of the adults looked scared which just made Sophia scared. Sherlock looked at her with wide eyes, as if he had no idea what to do with her. He whipped his phone out of his pocket, pressed a button or two and then pressed it to Sophia's ear.

"Tell Uncle Mycroft he needs to come here and look after you. Mrs Hudson's out. Tell him it's an emergency. Tell him John's in danger." He said as he moved towards the door. The phone rang in Sophia's numbs hands. She could feel her heart pound against her chest and she wondered if she was going to die. She had never been so scared that she couldn't cry before but right now she couldn't even move, let alone scream like she wanted to. "Stay sitting there. Don't move an inch until Uncle Mycroft is here."

Then the door to the flat slammed shut with a bang. Footsteps thudded down the stairs. "Hello?" The voice on the other end said. Sophia opened her mouth to relay the message but she heard someone sobbing hysterically. It was only when she heard her Uncle panic that she realised that it was her crying. "Sophia, where are you. What's going on?"

"Daddy and Mary ran away and they said that John's in danger and you need to come here to look after me." She almost screamed. Mycroft didn't ask anymore questions.

"I'm on my way. Don't move." He said firmly.

"I'm very scared." She said but it was too late. The phone bleeped as Mycroft hung up.

She didn't know how long she sat on the floor crying. Her chips smothered with ketchup didn't seem as appertising as they had. The room got scarier and the explosions on the television made her jump. She wanted her daddy, not Mycroft. She wanted Sherlock and John and Mary.

Uncle Mycroft got to the flat quicker than Sophia had expected. He was with a very pretty lady who, after a breif argument with Mycroft, carried her at arms length to the bathroom. It was only when she was stood up in the bathtub, being hosed down with a shower that she realised in all of her sobbing and panic, she had wet herself. Her cheeks burnt. She was mortified. She began crying again, making the pretty woman panic.

"Don't cry." She said as she scooped her out of the bath, wrapping her in a towel. "It's OK. Everything's fine."

"Who are you?" Sophia asked, wiping her nose with the back of her arm.

"I work with your uncle." The woman replied with a warm smile. She began to lead Sophia out of the room. The young girl followed with a slight frown.

"But what's your name?" She asked urgently.

"Anthea." The woman replied with a playful smirk as if she knew something that Sophia didn't.

"Pretty." Sophia mumbled as she darted inside of her room to find some clean pyjamas. Anthea waited outside as Sophia started the difficult task of picking out which onesie to wear now. It took her a while but when she was done Anthea was still waiting outside the door, tapping something into her phone with a smile on her face.

"Is John going to be OK?" Sophia asked, finally grabbing the woman's attention.

"I'm sure he will." She said, looking back to her phone and leading the way back to the living room where Mycroft sat. He smiled at her as she came to sit on her father's arm chair. She noted that the spot on the floor where she sat now looked as if somebody had made a pathetic attempt to clean at it with a mop. Her cheeks burnt red. She was glad that neither Mycroft nor Athea were drawing attention to it.

"I've tried to get in contact with your father." Mycroft stated. His voice was as calm as always. It made Sophia uneasy. "I'm sure he'll call us when he's done." Sophia frowned at him and curled up into a ball on the sofa. She missed her father already. She could feel her bottom lip tremble. She wanted to know if John was OK. What had happened? Why did everyone have to leave?

"Ah." Mycroft said abruptly, seeing that his niece was about to cry. "I was going to give this to you on your birthday but I thought that maybe you'd need something to... distract you tonight." He reached down the side of the armchair, lifting up a box that Sophia hadn't seen before. At first she didn't even know what it was. When she began to recognise what the colourful packaging held she felt herself grin.

It was a microscope kit just like daddy had.

That was how she got her new favourite toy. Sherlock came back later that night, when Sophia was fast asleep on the sofa. In the morning he didn't sugar coat what had happened. He didn't brush it off or lie to her. He told her the truth. Someone had put John inside of a bonfire and he and Mary had to save him before he burnt to death. He was OK now though. So with John OK, Sophia let herself remember that night as the night she got her own microscope. The night her fate was sealed. She would be Sophia Holmes the consulting detective.

In fact, that was what she was doing when it all started. Her father sat on one side of the table with a blowtorch and a human eye while she sat on the other side with her microscope and a dead moth she had found on the windowsill in the bathroom.

"Sherlock?" John's voice called.

"What was that noise downstairs?" Sherlock called back. Sophia looked up at him through her safety goggles. She had been so caught up in her dead moth that she hadn't even heard a noise.

"Mrs Hudson laughing." John answered as he and Mary walked into the kitchen. Mary stopped in the doorway, clasping her hands together under her chin, she let out a long, drawn out 'awww'. The type of noise Sophia reserved for tiny ducklings and puppies who could't get out of mugs.

"Sounded like she was torturing an owl." Sherlock responded, not taking notice of Mary or John who was now smirking as he walked over to them.

"Yeah, well, it was laughter." He replied.

"Could have been both." Sophia pointed out. John looked down at the table, wondering what on earth was going on and if a detached human eyeball and a live blowtorch should really be within sight and reach of a six year old.

"Busy?" Mary asked, a hint of humour in her voice. Sherlock let out a heavy sigh.

"Just occupying myself." He replied, lifting his head up and looking dramatically towards the ceiling. "Sometimes, it's so-o-o hard not smoking." The eyeball that had been dangling by it's optic nerve from the large tweezers Sherlock had been holding, fell and with a 'plop' landed in his mug of tea. Sophia began to giggle while Sherlock just looked down at it silently.

"Mind if we interrupt?" Mary asked. Sherlock switched off the blowtorch and placed the tweezers back down onto the table. He gestured to the seats at the end of the table.

"As long as it's OK with Sophia." He said, glancing at his daughter.

"I can deal with it." She said, lifting her safety goggle up to rest on her head. She let her eyes fall back onto the mug that currently had an eyeball floating in it. "Would you like a cup of tea?" She asked them both. They both shook their head.

"Sophia," John started. Sophia shrank back slightly into herself. Whenever John started a sentence with her name, it was always a serious one. "Why don't you take Mary to your room to show her your drawings. Your daddy said you've done a few more since we last saw them."

"Ok." Sophia mumbled hesitantly climbed down from her seat. Mary got up from her seat, waiting to follow Sophia as she walked across the kitchen to the hallway. "I know you and daddy are going to have a grownup talk. I always get sent out of the room when people have grown up talks." With that she gave a sharp nod and then stomped to her room, hearing the soft click-clack of Mary's shoes as she followed.

When they got to her room, Sophia jumped up onto her bed and took her doll and toy horse into her arms, giving them both a kiss on the head. Mary looked around the room with a small nod. It was very pink with only a few toys in. Mary felt sorry for the girl. She had friends who had children. All of them had hundreds of toys gathered over the years of birthdays and christmases. Sophia, John said, had nothing when her mother abandoned her.

Her eyes wandered around the walls, landing on what, at first glance, seemed to be a bunch of posters. Mary walked closer. There was something up with these pictures. They were cut outs from magazines, newspapers, books and printed from the internet but they didn't seem like the normal bubble-gum singers that a young girl would be interested in. They were formal portraits, photographs or paintings. Mary recognised a few of the people in the pictures but not all of them. Rosa Parks, Amelia Earhart, The Queen, Helen Keller, Anne Frank, Hillary Clinton, lots of pictures of suffragettes, the famous _'We Can Do It!' _poster, JK Rowling, Beyonce, Malala Yousafzai, Kate Nash, Michelle Obama, Merida from Brave and a lot more. The common factor between them all were that they were women. Strong, independent women. Wow, Mary thought, John wasn't kidding when he said Sophia was starting to become interested in feminism.

"What's daddy John talking to daddy Sherlock about?" Sophia said. Mary spun around to see the little girl perched on the bed stroking her doll's hair. "Is it bad? Is it my fault?"

"Of course not." Mary said, walking towards the bed and perching on the edge. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something as well." Sophia frowned down at her lap. "Something good." Mary added, hoping she wasn't scaring the girl too much. Reaching over, she clasped one of Sophia's hands in her own. The young girl looked up at her, her wide eyes identical to her father's. Mary took a deep breath before beginning. "You know that John and I are getting married?"

"Yes. Daddy said that you got engaged when you went out for a meal. That's why I wasn't allowed to go with you. That and they don't serve chicken nuggets." Sophia replied innocently. Mary nodded, wondering how to go on from here. When John said that she should probably plan what she was going to say, he was right.

"Well when we get married we'll need a flower girl."

"What's that?"

"Well..." Mary started, suddenly realising how little she knew about wedding rituals. "It's a young girl, about your age, who walks down the aisle before the bride... and she carries flowers." Sophia nodded as if she understood but Mary could tell that it wasn't really taking her interest at all. "And she gets to wear a pretty brand-new dress and be in the special photographs. The flower girls job is basically to just be cute." Sophia smiled at the thought of a brand new dress. "And I thought, who is the cutest little girl I know?"

"Mrs Hudson." Sophia nodded.

"Well... she is cute... I supposed but she's not exactly little." Mary answered. Sophia fell silent, looking deep in thought. She wasn't getting the hint. Mary sighed and leant in closer. "I was wondering if you'd be my flower girl, Sophia?"

Slowly turning her head, Sophia stared at Mary in shock. Her mouth grew smaller and her eyes grew wider. Mary briefly wondered if she was OK. If she should call someone. Then, in a blur of colour, Sophia leapt forwards, crashing into Mary's chest. She buried her head into the crook of her neck and began to giggle like the child she was.

"Really?" She asked after a second, her voice muffled against Mary's skin.

"Of course." Mary replied, smoothing down the girls hair as she let her other arm wrap around her. "And if your daddy says yes he's going to be the best man."

"When I get married," Sophia started. "You can be my flower girl as well."

/

A/N: _I am trying my hardest to keep up to date with you all and not make you wait so long but if I ever do, just remind me, okay? I'm in college! I volunteer, I babysit. Both of the latter are for children Sophia's age so that explains something. _

_Anyway, have a lovely day! Review away and I'll give you a look of resepct_


	9. The Wedding

Shopping for flower girl's dresses made Sophia feel like a princess. She got to try on all the expensive, beautiful dresses in posh shops and every old lady or sales assistant cooed at her and told her how cute she was. She didn't know why John and daddy refused to come along with them. She didn't mind though. It meant she got to spend a lot of time with Mary on her own and, as she soon figured out, Mary spoiled her rotten. She had already been bought a chocolate bar and they hadn't even got a dress yet. Mary even said that they'd go and pick her up some toys with the money that her daddy gave her. Mary said he gave it to her but from Sophia's point of view it didn't really look like he wanted to hand it over. It was the reward from the last case he solved and John and Mary said that Sophia needed it for toys. Sherlock said she had enough toys and part of Sophia agreed. She had her dolls and her microscope but the idea of more toys made her giddy with excitement so she decided not to argue like daddy did.

"Well that's a pretty dress." An old woman said from behind Sophia. She and Mary turned around. They were currently at the part of shopping that Sophia hated. The waiting in the queue part. They had to do it in every shop. For the shoes, for the chocolate. They were onto the dress now. It was the sixth one that Sophia had tried on.

"I'm going to be a flower girl." Sophia said proudly to the woman. "That means I have to be cute." The old woman laughed fondly and swapped a look with Mary who smiled back. "_And _I get to help pick out the cake _and _daddy said I can pick out his socks for him."

"Aren't you sure a lovely little girl helping out your mummy?" The woman said. "Not many little girls get to be able to see their mummy get married. You're very lucky." Sophia looked at the woman confused. She had, for a while now, forgotten about her mummy. She looked up at Mary and then back at the woman, shaking her head.

"My mummy left me." She said. The woman's face fell. Mary leant forward and put a hand on the woman's upper arm. She smiled gently.

"She's not my daughter." Mary said softly, as if it was a joke. "She's the best man's daughter. My husband is very close to her father."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The woman flustered. "You look so alike."

"I wish Mary was my mummy." Sophia said, offering some help. "But that would be selfish because I already have two daddies."

"Oh." The woman said. "You're a very luck girl. True love come in many different shapes and forms." She nodded wisely. Sophia stood still for a second, wondering what on earth that meant. She looked up at Mary for an answer but Mary was too busy smiling at the old lady. "So?" The woman asked. "When's the big day?" They asked Mary that in almost every shop. Sophia was bored of it.

Looking around the shop caught glimpse of the jewellery section. Shiny silver chains and glimmering diamonds called to her. It was so close. If she went there she would still be able to see Mary... if she looked around the corner and stood on her tip-toes. She tugged at Mary's sleeve, told her she was going to the the jewellery and then ran off.

The bottom of her shoes slapped against the floor loudly as she ran to her destination. She could feel her dress flutter out behind her. Daddy had chose her outfit that day. She wanted to wear her pyjamas like she usually did but Daddy said she couldn't. He said she was going out and she couldn't wear pyjamas outside. When she asked him why he said that he didn't really know.

_Thud!_

Sophia had crashed into something that wasn't there a second ago. Something had side stepped into her path causing her to hit it and fall back onto her butt. She frowned as she looked up. Stood in front of her was a man. He looked familiar but Sophia couldn't put her finger on it. He smiled down at her. Wearing old jeans and a polo-shirt he blended in with everyone else. He looked normal. Sophia didn't know many normal people.

"Hello, Miss Holmes." The man said. That's when Sophia remembered who it was. She jumped to her feet and instantly took a step back. "Do you remember me?"

"You're the man from school with the ball." She said slowly. "You're Jim!" He smiled, spreading his arms ever so slightly as if presenting something or asking for a hug.

"We really need to stop bumping into each other like this." He said smoothly. "What are you doing here today?"

"I'm getting a flower girl dress." Sophia answered. Jim frowned and tilted his head to the side. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and leant down ever so slightly.

"Is your daddy getting married?" He asked. She shook her head and giggled. Her daddy didn't have a girlfriend. Who would he marry? She thought for a breif second. If Mary wasn't marrying John then he could marry her daddy. Or Molly could. Molly loved her daddy a lot and Sophia could tell even if her father couldn't.

"No. Daddy John and Mary!" She said happily. "Daddy's the best man and I'm the flower girl."

"So, John doesn't live with you and your daddy anymore?" Jim asked. Sophia, being so excited by dress shopping and weddings, didn't realise a few things. The first being that she never told Jim who John reallywas and the second being that she had never mentioned John ever living with them.

"No." She sighed. "He and Mary moved out a while ago. Daddy said it's not my fault. He said John and Mary need to be alone in their own house so me and him don't walk in on them having sex." She paused and looked down at her feet, adding: "I don't know what sex is. He won't tell me." Jim began to hoot with laughter, catching himself after a few seconds and quieting down.

"Oh Sophia, I do love our little meetings." Jim said, reaching down and ruffling Sophia's hair. She frowned, jumping back and smoothing back down her hair. She got a strange feeling about this man. He looked different this time and it wasn't just his clothes. Sophia didn't know what it was she just knew that there was something. Something that crawled around deep down in her chest and told her to run away. It was daddy's voice in her ears telling her to get out of there, to go back to Mary.

"Why are you here?" She asked. Jim shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. "This is a wedding shop. A wedding shop for brides and bridesmaids. Then one for grooms and other boy people is the other side of town. That's what Mary said. The only boys here and with their family and you don't have family here. Do you?"

"You're very clever." Jim said. He looked at her, right into her eyes, in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. She looked away. She could hear her daddy in her ears again. Telling her to leave now. Grabbing her upper arm and pulled her towards Mary. "Just like your daddy. I bet you're his little princess, aren't you?"

"I don't think I want to see you again." Sophia said, trying her best to sound brave. Sometimes if you pretend something hard enough and long enough it will become true.

"Oh but you'll be seeing a lot of me. It's all part of the story." Jim said. "All part of the game. But you can't tell your daddy."

"Why not?" Sophia snapped.

"Because it's a surprise." He said, pressing his finger to his lips. "And you don't want to ruin John's big day, do you?" Sophia thought about it for a moment, biting her lip. "And if you ruin the surprise before I tell your daddy then he'll be very, very upset. He'll be so upset that he won't want you anymore. Just like your mummy." With that he pressed a finger against his lips, smiled and turned on his heel. Sophia watched him leave. She knew that there was no way she'd tell her dad. She didn't want him to kick her out. She had nowhere else to go and she loved her daddy.

/

Church bells rang. Sophia liked the sound of them. She had already decided that she loved weddings. She like being able to wear a pretty dress and walking down the aisle. It made her feel very important. She got to walk down before Mary. She got too excited at the end though and jumped up to hug John. He laughed while the rest of the church cooed and said 'awww' a lot. She felt like a princess. She knew that it was 'Mary's day'. Her daddy had told her that many times. But wearing her pretty purple dress with all of John's relatives and Mary's friends telling her she looked lovely, she loved it. It was her favourite day ever.

When the 'boring bit', as Sherlock had put it, was over they got to go outside where a photographer waited. Sophia did as she was told, posing here, moving there, smiling. The photographer mainly wanted to take photographs of Mary and John. Sophia didn't blame him. Mary looked liked a queen and John looked like a king. She had never seen them so happy before.

She was so busy staring at them, wondering if they were king and queen was she a princess, that it took her by surprise when her dad lifted her up. He rested her on his hip and she panicked. He never lifted her up and balanced her on his hip like he did now.

"OK, smile!" The photographer said. Sophia looked over at him and gave her biggest smile. Mary and John stood behind the photographer smiling at them. It was the sort of smiles that Sophia saw on the television. The smiles that mummies and daddies gave to their babies.

"Come on, Sherlock. Smile properly." Mary called. The camera flashed again and again. The wedding guests cooed and made those stupid noises again when Sophia leant in to give her father a kiss on the cheek. Flash, flash, flash. The photographer signalled that he was done and Sophia was put down on the ground. She frowned and looked up at Sherlock. She made a mental note to try and get him to pick her up more often. She liked being as tall as him. She liked being able to look at his face up close without him knowing.

Another woman came up to stand next to Sherlock. Sophia was ushered away, standing to the side on her own. She glared at the woman. She was Mary's head bridesmaid but Sophia was yet to make a solid opinion of her. She looked nice enough but she also looked like she wanted to be close to Sherlock. You could tell by the way she looked at him. She wanted to cuddle him and hold his hand. She wanted to be the only person to do it. That meant she had either forgotten, or didn't care, about Sophia. That place, Sophia thought angrily, was taken.

"Sophia!" A voice boomed. She spun around, her mind falling away from the woman with her father, to see Lestrade. She had gotten to know him better now. He came around to their flat sometimes to talk to her daddy about his job or about the wedding. She liked him a lot. He always thanked her for her drawings and he even said he put them up in his office at work. Once or twice he had even bought her a cake on his way to see her.

"Uncle Lestroode!" She cried happily, jumping up at him so he had no chance but to lift her up onto his hip. She had no idea why he and Sherlock had told her to call him 'uncle'. He wasn't Sherlock's brother like Uncle Mycroft was. Not that she minded though. She liked the idea of having a big family even if they weren't a proper, real family with the same blood.

"Sophia, you look beautiful." Molly's voice said as she approached them. "You were very good at walking Mary down the aisle before." She reached forward the stroke Sophia's arm. "You remember Tom, don't you?" He stood next to Molly, smiling awkwardly at her. He wasn't good with children. It made the whole room feel awkward. If Sophia was ever in the same room as him she learnt to ignore him. It saved both him and her the embarrassment.

"Yes." She said with a firm nod of her head. He smiled over at her, seeming genuinely impressed at this. "He's your fiance and daddy said we can't get involved." She remembered the day she met Tom. Afterwards her father took her into the bathroom to clean her face because she had the cake Lestrade bought her smeared over it. Holding her by her shoulders and looking in her eyes he told her, in his serious voice, that she was to never say anything to Molly about her boyfriend looking a lot like him. When she asked why Sherlock just said they weren't to get involved.

Thinking about Molly and Tom getting married made Sophia kind of sad. That's what a boyfriend was, right? It was the step before you got engaged and that was the step before you got married. She wanted to see Molly getting married, she really did. Molly would make a beautiful queen but Tom wouldn't make the right King. Not for Molly. No, Sherlock would be a far better King for Molly.

/

Sophia had been given the important role of standing between Sherlock and John and saying hello to everyone as they walked in. She hated it. She didn't like getting kisses on the cheeks from people she didn't know. She was hungry. She just wanted to go into the reception and eat. There were people inside with small foods on platters. She didn't know what it was but she wanted it.

It wasn't until Archie came along that Sophia began to take notice. He ran up to her father, wrapping his arms around his legs. Part of Sophia felt rather annoyed. She wanted to push the boy back and tell her that this was her father. He had his own parent who was good enough for him. This was hers.

Another part of her wanted to push Sherlock away. Why wasn't she getting a hug from Archie? She wanted to hug him and then tell him he was an idiot.

"Mm, yes, um." Sherlock flustered, awkwardly patting the pagebook on the back. "Well done in the service, Archie."

"He's really come out of his shell. I don't know how you did it." Archie's mother said happily. Sophia smiled to herself as she remembered the first time she met the boy.

She hadn't even known he was there. She had been in her bedroom with her microscope. She was showing her doll, Malala, how cool the leaf from Mrs Hudson's plant looked under the lens. She was just pointing out one of the spindly veins on the leaf when she was struck with a sudden hunger. Knowing that there was only one thing that could cure the rumbling in her stomach, she placed Malala down on the floor and set off for the kitchen. She was going to stuff her face with biscuits and there was nothing anybody could do about it. If Sherlock was researching something on his laptop to do with his case or in his 'mind palace' then he wouldn't even notice Sophia.

She skipped across the living room, taking no notice of anyone. Instantly going to where she new the biscuits were, she grabbed a handful and shoved one or two into her mouth. She began to wonder what they'd have for tea. Ever since Sherlock had become so involved in the wedding he usually forgot about food until Sophia reminded him. Then he'd panic and walk to the chip shop with her or send her down to Mrs Hudson to get tea from her.

"Basically, it's a cute smile to the bride's side, cute smile to the groom's side and then the rings." Sherlock said to somebody that Sophia couldn't see. She crept into the room, peeking over John's chair to see who sat there.

"No." A small voice said instantly. Sophia's eyes widened. She only ever saw children her own age in school and this was certainly not school. This boy was, around about, her age with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Sophia's first thought was one of panic. She was being replaced.

"And you have to wear the outfit." Sherlock said.

"No." The boy replied instantly once more.

"You really do have to wear the outfit." Sherlock pointed out.

"What for?"

"Grown-ups like that sort of thing?"

"Why?" The boy asked. Sherlock paused for a second to think.

"I don't know I'll ask one." He answered.

"Daddy, what's going on?" Sophia asked quickly. Sherlock looked up at her and rolled his eyes. The boy looked over his shoulder to her. She blushed and looked away.

"This is Archie. He's going to be John and Mary's pageboy." Sherlock answered.

"I'm going to be the flower girl." Sophia said, sticking out her chest proudly. Archie stared back at her silently. "Want a biscuit?" She asked, spraying crumbs across the room. Archie nodded so Sophia handed him two of her biscuits.

"I like your t-shirt." Archie said. Sophia looked down at her shirt. She ran a finger over the picture of the dinosaur on the front.

"Thanks." She said. "John got me it. See, underneath the dinosaur it says my name." Archie nodded as he chewed on his biscuit.

"That's a nice name." He mumbled through a mouthful of food. Sophia grinned, looking over at her father as a blush crawled upon her cheeks. Sherlock sighed to himself. He had thought he had more time before this. Before he had to deal with Sophia liking boys or girls in a romantic way. First it was this. Next it would be piercings, dyed hair and/or tattoos. He really needed to research more into this whole 'raising a girl' thing. After the wedding was over his first, and most important, stop would be the library.

"My daddy's a detective." Sophia said proudly. "He solves lots of murders and sometimes he brings the photos home on his laptop and when John's not around I'm allowed to look at them." Archie smiled, turning to Sherlock.

"Can I see?" He asked. Sherlock hesitated for only a moment.

"Yeah, all right." He answered.

/

"He said you had some pictures for him." Archie's mum said, bringing Sophia back to the present. "As a treat."

"Er yes..." He said, patting Archie's head. "If he's good."

"I helped pick them out." Sophia said proudly. Archie turned to her with a smile. She smiled back before blushing and looking away bashfully.

"Beheadings." Archie said happily to his mother.

"Lovely little village." Sherlock said quickly, unwrapping the boy from around him and pushing him towards the entrance. Sophia frowned in confusion and looked up at her father. Archie and his mother left to go inside while Sophia continued to frown at her father.

"I don't want to know." John said, holding a hand up to Sherlock. Sophia looked around to the queue of people who were waiting to greet Mary and John. She let out a loud sigh so everyone could hear as she shifted from one foot to another. She was far too hungry for this nonsense.

/

Much to Sophia's disappointment, they had to do more waiting until they could eat. All the adults were being boring and talking to each other about boring stuff like love and taxes. Archie suggested they play tag. Sophia thought it was great idea. She even asked Lestrade if he wanted to play because he looked rather lonely but he just smiled and said no. Mary was too busy kissing Tom, the head bridesmaid (that Sophia soon learnt was called Janine) was hogging her daddy's attention, John and Mary were too busy talking to people. So it was just Sophia and Archie. She didn't mind that though.

She was much better at this game than Archie was. She was quicker and could dodge around people quicker. She weaved her way in and out of the crowd that was now just a blur of colour and a buzz of noise. She could hear her breath and her feet slapping against the floor. She looked over her shoulder with a grin. There was no way Archie could catch up with her. He was getting closer though. She let out a giggle.

Crash. She collided with something or someone with such speed that she fell backwards onto her butt. Just like she had done in the shop with Jim. Her heart pounded in her chest in fear. She hoped it wasn't Jim. She didn't want him to ruin Mary and John's big day. She got to her feet, brushing any dirt from the back of her dress with her hands as she stared up at the man she had crashed into.

It wasn't Jim. The man was taller and more muscular. He wore a uniform. Sophia didn't know what type of uniform but she knew it was important. A man from the army? She shrunk back slightly. He didn't smile at her or ask if she was OK. He just stared at her. The skin covering one side of his face was puckered, reminding Sophia of wet tissue paper.

She felt a hand on her shoulder as Archie caught up with her. He stared up at the man in shock as well, not daring to say a word. A voice in Sophia's head scolded her. It was rude to stare, she told herself. She snapped her head away from him, in time to see John walking over towards them.

He ignored Sophia and Archie, focusing on the scarred man. He saluted and the man did the same back to John. Sophia wondered if she should do the same. Before she could do anything though, Archie's hand slapped her on the back. "Tag!" He shouted. "You're it!"

But she didn't want to play anymore. She told him she'd play again later and made her way over to her father. Archie shrugged and walked back over to his mum, getting stopped on the way by an old woman who complimented him on his outfit. Sophia made sure she was too quick to be caught by anyone. In an instant she was by her father's side, slipping her hand into his.

She waited patiently, staring at the man as she peeked out from behind her father's leg. She watched him talk to John until she felt her father begin to walk away, her hand still in his. She followed him, almost running to keep up with his long steps. He hadn't even noticed her walking with him.

"Daddy, who was that man?" She asked as they walked.

"John's old commanding officer." Sherlock said. Sophia didn't know what they meant but she nodded anyway.

"Why does he look like that?"

"Grenade." Sherlock answered absentmindedly as he took his phone from his pocket.

"That's a shame." Sophia sighed, looking over at the man.

/

**_A/N: _**_Sorry for the long wait. In my defense though: college, voluntary work and baby sitting. Do you feel my pain? Do you understand me? I try to prioritize you guys above everything else but... it's a hard life. Please forgive me. _

_Anywhom, how have you all been? Well? That's good. _

_I love you all and cherish each review. You should totally review again and, if you haven't before, start now. I'll answer any questions even if they're not about this story or anything to do with shezzzzzzaaaaaaaaaaaa. _

_C'mon, enough reviews and I'll somehow figure out a way to show you all the photograph of me outside the pub/hotel in the Hounds of Baskerville episodeeeeeeeeeeee_


	10. The Speeches

There were no chicken nuggets. None. Sophia didn't point out how disappointed she was though. This was Mary and John's big day and if they wanted to have awful food then they could. So she ate as much as she could, trying not to get any on her dress or face. She didn't even talk with her mouth full. She was on her best behaviour. Mary and John had let her sit at the head table. She wanted to sit next to Mary and John but she had to sit next to her dad and Janine.

After the meal she was still rather upset about it. That was until Mary and John distracted her by telling her they had an extra special present to thank her for being a bridesmaid. She thought that the colouring book and crayons lay out on her place at the table was present enough. Then again, she'd never refuse a free gift.

Reaching under the table, John handed her a purple box. It was much larger than the little purple boxes lay out on everyone elses tables. Her daddy had said that they were called wedding favours. She didn't understand it though. It was John and Mary's big day so why were they buying other people stuff? She wouldn't buy anyone anything at her wedding. They'd buy her things and they'd be happy about it.

But saying that she still happily accepted the box from John. Peering inside her eye's lit up with excitement. This was much better than a colouring book. Inside the box lay two bears. One in a bride's dress and one in a top hat and suit. She gently lifted them from the box, cradling them in her arms.

"They look just like you." She whispered. "Except bears." She stroked the groom bear's fur, knowing that they would get along great with her other toys at home.

She bears kept her distracted through the start of the best man's speech which was, unbeknown to her, was the whole idea. She knew what her dad was going to say. She had peered over his shoulder as he typed it up. She read a lot of it by herself but had to ask for help on the long words. She did her best to tell him that it was great and that everyone would love it.

When she looked up though, it seemed that she might have been mistaken. She thought that it was a good speech but everyone had started crying. Mrs Hudson was whimpering, holding a tissue to her face. Even Molly was crying and dabbing her face with a serviette. That made Sophia panic. Molly always seemed to be happy. Even when Sherlock had said something nasty to her, she pretended to be happy. She wasn't pretending now. The speech must be really bad for Molly to cry.

"Daddy..." She whispered, tugging at his sleeve. She knew that she shouldn't interrupt him but this was important. "Daddy, they don't like it." Sherlock looked down at her and then back up, staring at the guests.

"What's wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?"

"Oh, Sherlock." Mrs Hudson cooed tearfully.

"Did I do it wrong?" Sherlock asked looking down at John.

"No, you didn't." John said, getting to his feet. "Come here." He pulled Sherlock into a tight hug. Sophia watched in confusion. She had never seen John and Sherlock hug before. She hadn't found it strange up until now. You hugged people that you loved and she knew that John and Sherlock loved each other. She hoped that they'd hug more.

"I haven't finished yet." Sherlock said to John as the guests applauded them.

"Yeah, I know. I know." John said as he ended the hug. With John's arm still over his shoulder, Sherlock continued.

"So, on to some funny stories..." He started.

"Can you wait until I still down?" John asked. Sherlock nodded as John sat down and the applause faded.

"So, on to some funny stories about John." He continued. "If you could all just cheer up a bit that would be better." Sophia smiled up at her dad. She wondered if he'd tell the funny stories that she suggested. All of Sherlock's funny stories weren't really funny. Well, not as funny as Sophia's. She wanted him to tell the story about the time Sherlock let her draw on John's face when he was asleep or the time they did an experiment to see how quickly he could get out of bed in the middle of the night. That involved Sophia doing her best acting and standing in the kitchen screaming at the top of her lungs. John didn't think that was funny but she did.

"On we go. So, for funny stories one has to look no further than John's blog." Sherlock continued. He took out his phone, briefly holding it up. "The record of our time together. Of course he does tend to romanticize things things a bit, but then, you know, he's a romantic. We've tackled some strange cases: the Hollow Client.

_Sophia ran up the stairs to 221B. She stumbled into the room, proud that she was the first one up. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight that greeted her. After a few seconds she heard John and Sherlock come up behind her, stopping to stare at the scene ahead. In John's seat was a suit lay out exactly as it would if someone was wearing it. There were even shoes at the bottom. _

_Sophia let out a giggle. "Daddy, he might just be really skinny." _

"The poison giant." Sherlock said. Sophia frowned. She hadn't been allowed to go on that case with Sherlock and John. Mrs Hudson had looked after her. When they got back though they were exhausted. So exhausted in fact that they let Sophia order in a take-away as long as she rang up and ordered it herself.

"We've had some frustrating cases." Sherlock continued.

_No one noticed that Sophia had taken a handful of biscuits. John was busy with his blog and Sherlock was busy staring at a tiny matchbox. Sophia dropped herself down into John's seat and stared at her dad for a few seconds. _

"_What's that?" She asked, spraying biscuit crumbs across the room. _

"_A French decathlete found completely out of his mind, surrounded by one thousand, eight hundred and twelve. All empty except this one." Sherlock answered. _

"_And what's in that one?" John asked, looking up from his mug of tea and his blog. Sherlock looked at the matchbox, slowly pushing it open. Whatever was inside glowed bright gold, illuminating Sherlock's face. He grinned the biggest grin Sophia had ever seen. "The inexplicable." _

"_Is that a type of light?" Sophia asked after a few moment of silence. _

"Touching cases." Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.

"_If she walks away then I get a McDonalds meal for dinner. That's the deal." Sophia said seriously. She stood on one of the dining table chairs looking out of the window with John. Both of them staring at a young woman who hovered outside the cafe below, looking at 221B's door. _

"_If she comes in then I'm allowed to pick what's on the television for the whole day." John replied, his tone equally as serious. _

"_Deal." Sophia nodded. "She's going away." _

"_Oh, no. She's going to ring the doorbell." John commentated. _

"_She's changed her mind." Sophia mumbled._

"_No, she's gonna do it." _

"_No... she's leaving." _

"_Oh, she's coming back." _

"_She's a client. She's boring." Sherlock said from where he lay sprawled over his chair, his face pointing towards the ceiling and his eyes closed. "I've seen those symptoms before. Oscillation on the pavement always means there's a love affair." _

"And of course we need to mention the elephant in the room." Sherlock said.

_It was one of the 'safer' cases that Sophia was allowed on. The cases when there was no real risk of her seeing a body. These were the cases she was allowed to follow John and Sherlock on as long as she kept a tight hold onto their hands at all time unless told otherwise. _

_They walked along the blue corridor, Sophia between John and Sherlock. She clung to their hands and did her best to stay quiet. Sherlock liked it when she stayed quiet during cases. They eventually came to the door that they were intending to go into. They stopped, staring into the room with wide eyes. Sherlock's mouth fell open. Sophia was frozen in shock, eyes wide. Standing right there in the room, right in front of them, was an elephant. It trumpeted loudly. _

_Sophia was the first to move. She turned very slowly to look up at dad. He slowly turned to look at her, eyes not leaving the elephant until his head was totally turned to her. They looked each other in the eyes for a few seconds before Sophia spoke. "Daddy, can we keep it."_

"But we want something... very particular for this special day, don't we?" Sherlock asked. He looked down at the phone briefly before his eyes raised again to look at the crowd. "The Bloody Guardsman."

With a small frown Sophia let herself think back to that day.

It hadn't started off very well. She was fed up. She sat on the sofa with her arms folded across her chest and watched her father. He stood in front of her but not paying her any attention. He was more focused on the wall he had previously set aside to display paperwork. There was everything on that wall. Lists, maps, photographs, essays, post-it notes, pictures printed out from the internet. There was even one or two drawings that Sophia had kindly donated to the cause.

"Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin." Sherlock announced. Mary just smiled, looking over at him.

"Ah, orphan's lot." She replied. "Friends- that all I have. Lots of friends."

"Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11.48." Sherlock said.

"But the rehearsal's not for another two weeks." Mary pointed out, sounding rather tired of it all by now. "Just calm down."

"Calm? I am calm. I'm extremely calm." Sherlock replied. He sounded rather offended that anyone would think otherwise.

"Let's get back to the reception, come on." Mary said, nodding towards the table. Sherlock did as he was told, walking over to the dining room table. Sophia decided to make herself useful. She wanted to help but mostly she wanted some attention. She wanted someone to look at her. She loved the wedding, of course she did. She was so excited but part of her couldn't wait for it to be over. Everyone, especially her daddy, was far more interested in the wedding than her. No one cared about her drawings or how well she had done in school. They cared about Mary's dress and what colours the bridesmaids would wear.

"John's cousin." Mary announced, handing Sherlock a RSVP card. "Top table?" Sherlock looked down at the card. He didn't seem so certain. Sophia craned her neck to get a glance at it. She didn't understand the whole 'RSVP card' business. Wouldn't it save a lot of money and effort if they just emailed Mary and John to tell them that they were coming? Sherlock said it was a tradition. She had heard that word far too much lately.

"Hmmm. Hates you." Sherlock replied. "Can't even bear to think about you."

"Seriously?" Mary asked, looking up at Sherlock.

"Second class stamp. Cheap card." He paused to sniff it. "Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp. Three attempts at licking. She's obviously unconsciously retaining saliva."

"Well, that's not nice." Sophia grumbled. She looked down at the 3D model of the reception. She let her small fingers be guests, sitting in their seats and then moving to another.

"Let's stick her by the bogs." Mary said to John. Sophia giggled slightly and let her fingers walk over to the table nearest the toilets. "Who else hates me?" Mary asked as she leant closer to Sherlock. He sat down on the seat behind Sophia. He pulled himself and the chair forward, knocking into his daughter who happily jumped up onto his lap.

Sherlock produced a list on a light blue piece of paper, handing it to Mary. She took it with a small frown, glancing over the names. "Oh great. Thanks." She mumbled. Sophia leant over the table and placed a hand on Mary's lower arm.

"I don't hate you." She assured her. Mary smiled and ruffled Sophia's hair.

"Priceless painting nicked." John said from his place in his seat. Sophia looked over at him. He was staring down at his phone. "Looks interesting." Sophia looked back down at the table. It didn't sound very interesting. That was one of the safe cases that Sophia was allowed to go on. Most of the time it was stolen by someone the person knew. Sherlock would tell them and then they'd cry. It all made Sophia feel very awkward. She was always expected to give comforting hugs and be cute to cheer them up.

"Table four..." Mary mumbled, looking down at the paperwork on the table.

"Done." Sherlock answered.

"My husband is three people." John said with a chuckle.

"Clones." Sophia answered simply. She was getting the hang of this detective stuff. It was so simple it made her wonder why everyone was so impressed by Sherlock when he did it. She looked over at John with a smug grin and nodded her head once. He held back a laugh. Smirking before returning to look at his phone.

"Table five." Mary said.

"Major John Sholto." Sherlock said, looking at a list he held in front of Sophia. "Who he?"

"Oh, John's old commanding officer. I don't think he's coming." Mary answered.

"He'll be there." John said firmly.

"Well, he needs to RSVP." Mary reminded him.

"Or he could just email or text you." Sophia suggested. "It would save a lot of money."

"My husband is three people." John tried again, reading from his phone. Sophia looked over at him, wondering why her clone theory hadn't pleased him enough. "It's interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin." Sherlock took Sophia from his lap and got to his feet. He placed her back down on the chair and began to walk towards the coffee table.

"Identical triplets." He said in that quick voice he used when he had 'deduced' something. "One in a half million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now serviettes." He squatted down by the coffee table, pulling out a tray from underneath it. There lay two serviettes both folded into different shapes. "Swan or Sydney Opera House?"

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Mary asked happily.

"Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation..."

"Fibbing, Sherlock." Mary said. Sophia looked over with a grin. One of the many reasons she loved Mary was because she could tell her daddy off. It was always hilarious to Sophia to see her father being treated like a child younger than her.

"I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of..."

"I'm not John." Mary interrupted again. "I can tell when you're fibbing."

"He learnt it on youtube." Sophia said, earning a glare from her father. She smiled back at him sweetly.

"Opera House, please." Mary replied. "Oh, hang on. I'm buzzing." She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone and lifting it to her ear. "Hello? Oh, hi, Beth!" She got to her feet, walking towards the kitchen. John looked over at her before getting to his feet himself.

"Actually, if that's Beth it's probably for me too. Hang on." He said as he also left for the kitchen. Sophia felt herself frown. Something wasn't right. She climbed from the seat quietly.

Sherlock was busy doing whatever he was doing with the serviettes. Sophia had long since stopped being impressed by his paper folding. It was good at first but then he wouldn't watch television with her and the paper folding began to annoy her. He didn't notice her leave. He didn't notice her leave yesterday either. She went downstairs to see Mrs Hudson just to see if he'd notice. He didn't.

"You need to run him, OK?" Mary was saying to John quietly. "Show him it's still the good old days." She stood between them but they still hadn't noticed her. She looked from John to Mary and back again.

"You don't have a friend called Beth." She announced. They looked down at her, shocked to see that she was there. She glanced down at Mary's hand and then back up at her. "You're not even on your phone. Why are you lying?"

Mary nodded her head towards the door. Gesturing for John to leave and talk to Sherlock. Eventually she gave him a quick shove. Sophia stayed staring at her. She wanted an answer and she wanted it now. Mary smiled down at her, resisting the urge to pat her on the top of the head.

"Important, boring, adult stuff." She said with a quick shrug. Sophia didn't seemed convinced. She continued to glare at Mary for a few more seconds before letting her shoulders drop. She sighed dramatically and closed her eyes.

"Everything is important, boring, adult stuff." She whined, tilting her head back to the ceiling. Mary smirked and gave her a quick pat on the back.

"Sorry." She apologised. Sophia opened her eyes and stared up at Mary. She frowned. "Not much longer now." Mary continued. "The wedding will come and go before you know it."

"I wish I had a little sister." She mumbled. "Or a twin sister."

"I don't think your daddy could handle another one of you."

"Could you?" Sophia asked quickly. "If daddy couldn't handle me would you look after me? Just me!"

"Pardon?" Mary asked with a hollow laugh. Sophia shifted in her place slightly. The whole situation with the man outside the school and in the wedding shop was still getting to her. She had tried to block it out with the wedding but it was still there. Right at the bottom of her stomach, it still wiggled and nibbled at her.

"If daddy didn't want to look after me any more. If daddy put me out on the street because I had been naughty or he just didn't want me anymore? Would you be able to look after me?"

"Your daddy will never put you out." Mary said, crouching down so she could be eye level with Sophia. "Your daddy loves you even if he doesn't show it like most other daddys. He'd never ever leave you."

"Yeah but what if?" Sophia urged. "Just pretend!"

"Of course." Mary said. "Of course, I'd take you in." She pulled Sophia in for a hug, her arms wrapping around her small body. Sophia smiled and buried her head into Mary's hair. For the first time since seeing Jim in the wedding shop, she felt truly safe. No one could get her when she was in the arms of someone she loved.

/

**_MySadCaptains: _**_Hello my wonderful little humans! I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Thank you for reading and favouriting and reviewing and alerting! I love you all!_

_Please review, I try my hardest to reply to all of the reviews. I'll answer any question unless its something like 'where do you live'' or 'what's your pin number'_

_Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful day. i love you all._


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